


Captain's Log, Supplemental

by aureliu_s



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Academy Era, Angst, Bisexual Sylvia Tilly, Chris Feels, Christopher Pike Lives, Dadmiral Christopher Pike, F/M, Fluff, Hell on Wheels AU, James T. Kirk is a Brat, M/M, Minor Michael Burnham/Ash Tyler | Voq, Other, Smut, Starfleet Academy, Tags will be updated, Tribbles (Star Trek), academy era christopher pike, but still a kid, just a prompt dump, lots of pike/oc, spock is a drama queen, star trek disco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-01-07 12:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 22,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18410498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aureliu_s/pseuds/aureliu_s
Summary: Just a place for all my many, many Star Trek writings (mostly prompt stuff), Pike/OC centric with guest appearances by pretty much everyone. :)





	1. Cmdr. Aurora

**Author's Note:**

> time for y'all to meet my star trek oc :) ignore words like "this" that supposed to have hyperlinks

➥ What is your character’s full name?:

Cmdr. Aurora Desruisseaux

➥ When were they born?:

April 29th, 2219 (contrary to most of the fandom, I use 2219 as Pike’s birth year as well, according to books and such that support the Jeffrey Hunter timeline), in Bordeaux, France. However, she lived on Bajor from age four onwards, and considers it more “home” than Bordeaux.

➥ What are their parent’s names?:

Jacques Desruisseaux (unknown) and Melina Cross (unknown).

➥ Do they have any brothers or sisters?:

Biological siblings, if any, are unknown to her. However, she does have three step-siblings: older brother Dejos (DAY-jhos), older sister Soya (soy-AH), and younger sister Aiyet (ay-ET). Their family name is Keryce (keh-REESE).

➥ What kind of eyes do they have?:

Aurora has bright, sea-green eyes that look a lot like this. She doesn’t speak a lot except around people she’s comfortable with, but her eyes do a lot of revealing of her thoughts and emotions.

➥ What kind of hair do they have?:

She cut her hair a year and a half prior to her and Pike’s assignment on Discovery. It’s white in color, not platinum blonde or anything but pure white. The color comes from her father, who was an French native and intergalactic space smuggler. He was in contact with a lot of rare metals, radiation, and other gases/materials that would’ve probably affected his genes somehow, and slowly turned his hair completely white (as well as affected his senses). She usually styles it in a braid crown.

➥ What is their complexion like?:

Olive complexion but pale; there isn’t much sun in space, and that’s where she’s been for quite some time. She tans but doesn’t necessarily burn in the sun.

➥ What body type are they?:

Aurora was average for a long time; after her pregnancy, she was under an enormous amount of stress, trying to grieve, help Pike out of his depression, and reacquaint with him after a year away. She subjected herself to a lot of stress eating, which was followed by a longer period of hardly eating at all. By the time she and Pike are on Discovery, she’s returning to a healthy-medium.

➥ What is listening to their voice like?:

Aurora doesn’t speak much, except to Pike and close friends, so her voice is usually unexpected and people don’t always know where it comes from. It’s very gentle and smooth, not as joking or lighthearted as Pike’s. But like his, it also becomes commanding/tight in a stressful or dangerous situation.

➥ What do they hate most about themselves?:

Aurora is generally at peace with herself, which is why she’s usually more concerned about Pike. The man is in love with the future but is constantly dredging up the past; his mistakes, his orders, things he might’ve done wrong, the consequences of his decisions, the way he treated her after the Talos IV incident, the fact that he could’ve been a father. He blames himself for almost everything that goes wrong or awry or ends in hurt/death. Aurora, though, is very attuned to her emotions and almost adopts a Vulcan way of thinking when it comes to these kinds of things: she looks at whether or not there was anything she could’ve done, and if she could, if it would truly change the outcome of the event. But sometimes she does think about what it is that she’s done wrong, things she could’ve prevented. That gives way to lots of meditation.

➥ Do they have a favorite quote?:

Pike once said to her, “If you die, my universe will have lost its brightest star”, during a particularly trying and dangerous mission during the 5-year exploration period. She holds that line very close to her heart and will never forget the look on his face as he said it.

➥ What sort of music do they enjoy?:

She wasn’t much of a music person until she met Pike, whose music tastes vary from the Earth 1950′s to modern day Andorian orchestra. He listens to pretty much everything and anything, and loves to share it all with her. She enjoys Kasseelian and Earth opera the most.

➥ Have/would they ever cheat(ed) on a partner?:

No. That stems in part from the fact that Pike has really been her only love; her childhood on Bajor was pretty dreary and most kids were intent on bullying her rather than making friends. Pike was one of the first people to truly appreciate her, and he’s never been anything but his charming, joking self (with the exception of the Talos IV post-mission period) towards her. He already deals with enough self-doubt and past ghosts as is, she would never want to add onto that by cheating him.

➥ Have they been cheated on by a partner?:

No, not technically. Pike’s had a few girlfriends from his time in college and such, most of which he complains about (because hell, where was Aurora his whole life?). The one quasi-relationship he doesn’t usually talk about is Vina. During their imprisonment on Talos IV, it became fairly clear that Vina had feelings for him, which were strained because of Aurora’s presence and her existing relationship with Pike. He’s not a particularly assertive person sometimes, so it put him in an infinitely awkward position. He was sympathetic to Vina and her feelings but he didn’t love her. Even so, he sometimes thinks about what would’ve happened if she came with them and returned to civilization. But then he feels as if he’s cheating Aurora somehow (even though they’ve spoken about it in depth, and she understands fully). Other than that, Pike would never willingly choose someone else over her.

➥ Have they ever lost someone close to them?:

Yes and no. She has very little memory of her parents because she was so young when they sent her away, but what memories she has she treasures. But for a long time even she wasn’t sure exactly where she was born or where the first four years of her life were spent. They aren’t truly “lost”, but she hasn’t seen them in three decades, so in a way they are kind of ghosts. As for others, she never had a group of friends to really worry about until she got to the Academy with Leland and Pike. Leland’s changed more than she or Christopher has over the years, though, and she feels as if the old Leland she knew is slipping away at a rate she won’t be able to catch him at. If he isn’t gone already.

➥ What is their favorite sound?:

Pike’s voice is an easy choice. She enjoys listening to him do and say everything: give orders, chuckle, make a joke, demand to know what the hell is going on, think things through aloud. He talks in his sleep an awful lot. He sings to himself shamelessly in the shower or while cooking (because sometimes, the replicator is only so good), he mumbles things when he’s exhausted, he groans pretty much all the time. His sneezes are hilarious. He hums Frank Sinatra in his chest when they’re caught up in a slow sway. Perhaps her favorite, though, is when he recites Shakespeare under his breath. He whispers sonnets into her hair at night and murmurs fifteenth-century declarations of love against her shoulder. It makes her fingertips tingle.

➥ Are they judgmental of others?:

As someone who was judged and bullied a lot, Aurora makes it a point to remain neutral about others until they give her a reason to like or dislike them. She’s very tolerant of other peoples, religions and cultures. This makes her pretty easy to talk to for just about anyone. That and the fact that she knows 47 languages and counting.

➥ Have they ever been drunk?:

Yes, but she prefers not to be. She doesn’t like having her senses so impaired and disfunctional. That, and alcohol stirs unpleasant memories.

➥ What are they like when they stay up all night?:

Surprisingly talkative and energetic. She’s one of those people who it seemingly more energetic when they haven’t slept in a while, but it catches up with her eventually. She’s no stranger to staying up to ungodly hours, especially since she’s chief archivist for the Enterprise and has the colossal task of sorting all their findings/information of the five-year mission in front of her. She usually works on that in the off hours when she’s feeling stressed.

➥ Have they ever been arrested?:

Well, on missions, yes. Arrested by aliens of every color with the weirdest species characteristics imaginable, held prisoner, etc. Pike also successfully makes them fugitives of Starfleet while they’re on the Discovery, so, there’s that.

➥ What evokes strong memories for them?:

Just combing through the Enterprise’s info from the five-year mission brings back a lot of memories. Things she’d forgotten about, moments she doesn’t entirely remember but are there nonetheless. A certain scent–she doesn’t know fully how to describe it, but it’s very obscure–reminds her sometimes of Talos IV. Their containment had an odd, plastic/doctor’s office/old seawater smell to it. Alcohol puts her on edge and makes her worried. Rain makes her think of the last night she spent on Bajor, before leaving for Earth and the Academy.

➥ What do they do on rainy days?:

Aurora doesn’t like the rainy weather, so luckily in space there isn’t much rain. Albeit, there isn’t much weather in space anyway. Rain makes her think of the last time she was on Bajor (before returning after Talos IV), where it rained historical amounts. Her ship was delayed the next morning. She’d probably try to get some work done and see if she could not leave bed at the same time.

➥ What religion are they?:

Aurora belongs to the Bajoran religion, also called “The Way of the Prophets”. Though she isn’t biologically Bajoran, she is one the few who practices the old meditation styles, which have since become relatively obsolete.

➥ What word do they overuse the most?:

She has a pretty expansive vocabulary, and that on top of not speaking much doesn’t really leave room for overused words.

➥ What do they wear to bed?:

Pike’s a personal space heater at night no matter the season, weather (or lack thereof), or quadrant of space they’re in. She has one of his black undershirts she took before leaving after Talos IV, the regular Starfleet-issue underwear, or the more expensive satin things from Bajor.

➥ Do they have any tattoos or piercings?:

She has no tattoos, but she does have a Bajoran earring. The earrings are a symbol of faith on Bajor, and used to be a symbol of one’s place in the caste system. As faith is one of the few Bajoran things she picked up, she wears this earring on her right ear.

➥ What type of clothing are they most comfortable in?:

She doesn’t mind her red uniform, but she doesn’t like the Discovery uniforms (although dark blue and gold looks great on Pike). From her small wardrobe of regular clothes, she prefers sweaters.

➥ What is their most disliked food?:

Aurora is a vegetarian by choice, although sometimes she will eat fish. She’s not a very picky eater, but she hasn’t had meat in a very long time, so I guess meat wouldn’t bode too well if she suddenly ate it?

➥ Do they have any enemies?:

Not particularly. The same idea with her friends, she never had enemies, just people who disliked/didn’t care about her. Even now, she doesn’t know enough people to call them enemies. There are enemies of Starfleet, of course.

➥ What does their writing look like?:

Her handwriting is a little surprising to most people, because it isn’t at all what they would expect. Most people expect gentle, flowing letters and lines, much like her voice, but in fact her handwriting looks a lot more like this.

➥ What disgusts them?:

Disloyalty, liars, discriminators. She has no tolerance for people looking to make the world a worse place, and no tolerance for people who beat down on others for no good reason.


	2. The Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 60 - things you said when you couldn't take it

“Clear the bridge.”

Each pair of eyes settled on the view screen and then on their captain. Pike was still, his fists against the back of the chair and gaze aimed downwards. Slowly, one by one, the bride crew filed out.

Just as the lift door closed, Pike let rip a furious roar.

“We should be fighting!” He almost screamed. Aurora hesitantly reached for his shoulder but he dove away, stalking to the screen. “Look at them. The numbers grow every damn time the Federation sends the list out. Why do they even send it out? To taunt us?”

Aurora remained quiet.

“I want to fight, they all want to fight, but what do we do? Sit around—in the middle of Christ knows where—and do nothing.”

“The Federation gave us orders.”

“I can’t keep hearing that.” Christopher Pike shook his head, running an agitated hand through his slicked hair. “We can’t keep using that god-damned excuse.” Pike dragged his palms down his face and let his fingers situate on his waist. “I can’t keep hearing that from you, Rora.”

She felt her heart clench. The Federation wouldn’t let them fight. The Federation kept them farther than arm’s reach, farther into the outreaches of space than anyone had ever been. In the ass end of space, and ordered to stay away. Stay away? From home? From civilization? What was the point of staying away if there was no Federation to return to?

“And I want to fight just as much as you do.” Aurora circled the chair and sat in it for a moment, heaving a long sigh. “I want to help the Federation just as much as you do, Chris.”

He echoed her sigh.

“I know.”

“But the Federation believes we can help them best here.” Aurora pushed herself off the captain’s chair and extended her hands to Pike.

“That’s bullshit.”

“It is bullshit.”

His surprised eyes turned upwards to her, a momentary grin spreading his features.

“I like it when you swear.”

“I don’t.”

Pike meandered his way back to her, the tightness in his body slowly draining. The Federation would keep them away, he knew it. For as long as they could; for the duration of the war, if necessary.

And he would still get angry about it, and Aurora would still try to heal them both with the same line: But the Federation believes we can help them best here. And she’d have more to swear about.

He enveloped her when they hugged, closing his eyes to search for the feel of her heartbeat against him. Aurora exhaled against his chest, hooking her arms up and around his neck. “Kiss me.”

He kissed her hair.

“I hate being angry.”

“I know,” she murmured, “the war will end. If the Federation needs us, they’ll pull us back.”

Pike hummed under his breath, soothing himself back into his regular charisma, back into himself, rocking Aurora with him on the bridge. The great emptiness of space stared at them through the edges of the view screen.

“Computer,” he called, “close the Federation casualty list.”

“I’ll divert any more lists they send out.”

“No,” he mumbled, “let them send it.” Pike cupped her face in his palms and brushed her lips.

His anger was ever dormant, and he had no doubt it would explode again. But now, kissing on the bridge, with only the vastness of space to worry about. Comforting but provocative.

“We’ll stay on course.”

“Aye, Captain.”


	3. Quarantine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> completely episode-3 divergent, but the idea was basically just what if engineering was cut off after the fungus gets sucked out of tilly? again, totally plot divergent but i needed a reason to write tooth aching fluff. pike is a sucker for physical contact and absolutely a shakespeare fan

“Commander?” Pike’s form was easily distinguishable, if a bit distorted by the electromagnetic shielding. Aurora glanced behind her and stood up from Stamets’ side, mumbling a little apology at cutting their conversation short. She walked to the shield, cutting out its persistent low hum to focus on Pike’s words again. “Hey,” his voice was unusually soft but accompanied by a familiar, quiet chuckle. “I figured you could use some company.” She smiled, trying to remind herself of the powerful containment field keeping them apart. She wanted nothing more than to hug him.

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re lonely.”

“I guess.” He smiled sheepishly. “You know me too well.” The captain lifted the book in his hand. “But I brought Shakespeare.” Her laugh was like the distant tolling of churchbells, just loud enough to hear. Her smile spoke loudest, eyes gazing up at him through the field, taking in the aspects of his face over and over again, watching a slow grin paint his features. Somewhere in his head, Pike cursed the containment field between them. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, drag her out of this mess. A bath, maybe. It’d been months since he’d taken a bath. Years, even. Sweet wine from Mojave. And then he could climb into bed and trace his fingers over her cheekbones, murmur his declarations of love into the darkness, the ones she wouldn’t hear.

“Chris?” Pike blinked, gaze settling on her again. Christ, he wished he could feel her. Aurora leaned against the wall of energy, and he did the same. He almost swore he could feel her breath. “You look tired.” Pike hummed affirmative. “Ribs,” he gestured vaguely to his side, “doctor says they’re mostly healed, but achey for a while.”

He let his head fall sideways against the cold metal, unable to wipe the exhausted smile off his face. Her hand flicked up but stuttered—he knew the motion, had grown used to it. A soft caress, a press to his side, always followed by a pat on the chest and a kiss on the lips. Damn, he was lonely. Instead, her hand settled on the shielding, its low hum wavering for a second. “It’s thin enough,” she nodded. Pike placed his palm against hers, feeling the electricity crackle. Sure enough he could feel the warmth of her palm against his. Stamets resisted the urge to sigh. Pike’s face was dreamy, completely enraptured with the woman in front of him. It had been most of the day since engineering was put under quarantine, ever since he, Saru, and Aurora had sucked that fungus out of Tilly. The ensign was sleeping deeply not far away.

Pike must’ve realized he was quite the lost puppy, because slowly he regained his composure and air of confidence. Aurora traced his palm as they spoke, quietly, stifling giggles when Pike’s humor prodded through the containment field. He didn’t know how long they spoke, or how long he watched, but eventually they slid down the wall, Pike’s voice inquiring about the book in his hand.

“Complete works. Anything specific?” He gestured with the book. “One of the sonnets. You pick.” Aurora sat as close as she could to him, the thin layer of energy being the only thing separating them. It must be driving them both insane, Stamets thought. Something in Pike’s eyes confirmed his theory. A forlornness, a longing, a frustration. He listened to the captain murmur sonnets to her, reading them off with perfect intonation and phrasing. He’d obviously read Shakespeare before; Chris Pike hadn’t struck him as such a scholar before now.

_Is it thy will thy image should keep open my heavy eyelids to the weary night? Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, while shadows like to thee do mock my sight? Is it thy spirit that thou send’st from thee so far from home into my deeds to pry, to find out shamed and idle hours in me._

Stamets tried to ignore the clenching of his heart. Hugh had been surprisingly literate, like Pike, but in music. Beyond knowledgeable in opera and classics from all over the galaxy, invested in all genres.

_Let me confess that we two must be twain, although our undivided loves are one: so shall these blots that do with me remain, without thy help, by me be borne alone. In our two loves there is but one respect, though in our lives a separable spite, which thought it alter not love’s sole effect, yet doth it steal sweet hours from love’s delight._

Stamets had grown so used to the captain’s soft-spoken reading that it was entirely noticeable when he stopped. Aurora had slumped ever so slightly against the field and the wall, pulled into sleep with Pike’s spoken lullabies. Her breathing was even, slow. The lost puppy look returned for just a brief moment to the captain’s features. Stamets knew the feeling. To want nothing more than to wrap someone in your arms, cradle them close, kiss them, feel them. And to not be able to, at all. Eventually Pike stood, reluctantly. He cast his gaze around the room.

“Everyone doing okay?” Stamets appreciated their new captain. He was attuned to emotion, interested in his crew, and as he’d heard around the cafeteria, not too hard on the eyes.

“We are all doing fine, Captain.” Saru entered Stamets’ line of vision. “You should consider getting some rest. You look…weary.” Pike smiled slowly, a smile that was laced with the fatigue of having shattered ribs and exhaustion.

“Is this a polite way of telling me I look terrible, Saru?” The alien jolted slightly, as if offended. Pike waved it off. “Kidding.” He nodded to Stamets. “We’ll get you all out of here soon.” Blue eyes found the woman curled up near his feet. “All of you. Hang in there.”

Saru said his goodbyes, and with one last over-the-shoulder, yearning glance, Pike disappeared, one hand pressing lightly on his side. Somehow his promise was a comfort, even when Stamets knew there was very little he could do—maybe that was Pike’s charm. The comfort of his presence was enough for most people. The reassurance in his smile. Stamets closed his eyes and Saru vanished again, no doubt to sit with Tilly. We’ll get you all out of here soon. All of you. Hang in there.


	4. Is That My Shirt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 44 - "is that my shirt?" hope everyone is ready for my obsessive love of academy era chris pike.

“ _Chris,” she whispered against his collarbone, tracing his jaw with the lightest of touches._

_Pike grunted, still very much asleep, yet awake enough to hear his name._

_“What happens if we get put on different ships?”_

_That woke him up more. He hadn’t thought about that yet; their assignments would be streaming in…around six hours from now, if the clock read correctly._

_He hadn’t thought about that._

_“Then I will use my rookie status and low-ranking officer powers to put you on that ship.” He felt a smile spread his features and she laughed quietly into his chest. He knew that wouldn’t happen. The chances of them being separated were all too high, and a newbie would never be able to make demands of anyone above him. For all he knew, this could be their last time waking up together, his arm tucked under her head, her fingers memorizing the plains of his face. Their last six hours together, tucked in bed, dreading their impending assignment._

_“But truly. What if-“_

_“Don’t think too much about it,” he murmured back, scooting down to kiss her. He wound his free arm around her middle and pulled her chest to his. That was useless, he knew. Now he would be thinking about it. It would gnaw on him for the handful of hours he had left with her._

_God, he was already beginning to think like they were separated._

_He suppressed the sudden urgency in his veins and kissed her tiredly again, fisting the loose fabric of her shirt._

_Pike paused._

_“Is that…my shirt?”_

_Aurora smiled against his lips, fingers combing his tussled hair._

_“Not anymore.”_

 

“Christ, Roger, just be quiet for a moment.”

“Alright, yeah, sorry. Chris, right? Is it Chris? Or do you want Christopher?”

“Chris is fine,” he grit out, snatching the data pad off the boring metallic end table beside his oddly stiff bed. “Now be quiet.”

There was a green button on the left side, mirrored by a red on the right. He instantly hit the green.

The screen was blank for a moment, loading, connecting. Then a familiar face appeared, framed by gentle waves of brown hair, sea green eyes sparkling at him.

He and Aurora were both quiet for what felt like an eternity, before Roger’s voice appeared just beside his ear.

“Is that her? Hi! You’re beautiful. Are you Aurora?”

She looked surprised but smiled and gave a little wave.

“Hi.”

“I’m Roger, I’m Christopher’s—Chris’s—roommate.”

“Christ, Roger. Could I have a moment?”

The redhead rattled off another greeting before gravitating to his side of the room.

Pike ran his fingers through his dark hair, grinning dumbly.

“I see you didn’t feel the need to put clothes on to call me.” Aurora gestured vaguely to him. He shrugged.

“I am wearing pants. And besides,” Chris shook his head, “how am I expected to wear a shirt if you took it?”


	5. Adam and Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 - "no one's going to hurt you"

_The veins stretching over their bulbous brains pulsated, their voices echoing in his head. They were talking about him, to him, thinking about him. He could hear it, echoing in his brain. Christ, please make it stop. He didn’t want to hear it anymore. Adam and Eve, in their artificial Garden of Eden, bound to create a race of offspring slaves for the Talosians and their brains. He was shaking. His whole body, all the lean muscle he’d acquired was useless. The left part of his chest throbbed, from some aching cut he was too stiff to move and see. Blood crusted and dried on his skin. They had commented on him earlier, mused about his strength, his physical health. **Strong** , they had drawled amongst themselves,  **he will bear healthy children.**_

_And across from him, Aurora, holding her knees tight against her chest. Eve. They had spoken about her, too, more of an examination. His had merely been an interrogation. He dreaded to think that hers was more physical._

_Pike groaned, snapping his head up. No sleep. No rest for the wicked. No rest for the weary._

_“Rora,” he croaked, throat dryer than Mojave in the summer. He had no strength, but managed to push himself off the wall, more or less onto his knees. It took every fiber of his being to crawl, and then when his knees gave, dragging himself forward on his elbows. “Look at me, Cinderella.” **Smart** , they had said about her,  **she will teach them well**. “Christ, please, I can’t crawl all the way there.”_

_Her face came up at that, tear-streaked, and with the same agonizingly slow movements she moved towards him. Aurora murmured a profuse apology as Pike rolled onto his back in the dark, grabbing for her hands. Her head hit the right side of his chest, cold breath dancing up his neck. His heartbeat rattled in her ears._

_“How are we going to get out of here, Chris?” She moaned._

_“I don’t know. We’ll find a way, Cinderella.”_

_**The specimens are interacting closely.** _

_Pike shot up, Aurora’s head falling into his lap._

_“No!”_

**_He is experiencing an emotional connection to the female. He has already advanced beyond our training regimen._ **

_“We’re not pets, you ugly bastards!” Pike stood, letting Aurora down as gently as possible._

**_Perhaps they had a previously existing attachment. It would explain the male’s ascendant behavior._ **

_He slammed his fists against the clear shield. The Talosians seemed aghast, staggering backward in sync._

_“Let us go,” Pike snarled, placing his knuckles against the shield. “Let us go, or I swear to Jesus Christ almighty I will rip each of your heads off myself!”_

_They stared at him with wide, saucer-sized eyes._

**_The male is becoming an increasing threat, Magistrate. We should neutralize him._ **

_“You bet your ass I’m a threat!”_

**_Our hold on him is diminishing, Magistrate. He should be neutralized._ **

_Pike froze. “Our hold on him is diminishing.” They’d never said that before. But then again, he’d never been this angry before._

_“You can’t read through hate,” he said slowly, “can you? It’s too…too primitive an emotion. Too strong. Your brains are so goddamn complex, you can get past the simple things.”_

**_His intelligence is unprecedented in previous tests, Magistrate. It is wise to consider neutralizing him._ **

_“The love of wicked men converts to fear; that fear to hate, and hate turns one or both to worthy danger,” Pike said slowly, watching the contortion of their faces return to the pallid, pale purple features washed with complacency. “And deserved death.”_

 

 

_They threw him back in hours later. God only knew how much time had actually passed. It was dark, darker than before. Aurora’s crumpled figure had moved from where he left it, tucked back into the farthest corner. His chest throbbed, knees ached, head swam._

_“Chris,” her voice held a high urgency he hadn’t sensed before. God, God, good God. They hadn’t taken her too, had they? His body hit the floor, cold and sterile. “Chris, please be awake.”_

_“Ngh…I…I’m awake.”_

_She was silent for a long while, but her breathing was hitched and uneven. He wanted to tell her not to cry, that he was here, but he wasn’t. His mind felt…disconnected from his body, like he had left in the other room. The Chris Pike they continuously dragged out and tossed back inside this god forsaken cell was only a brainless husk. He supposed that was what they wanted; a specimen devoid of emotions to grapple with. God, he wanted to cry too. But there wasn’t enough willpower left to blink._

_He closed his eyes and let them stay closed, barely registering Aurora pulling his torso up into her arms. His head fell into her neck._

_“I promise they won’t hurt you.”_

_“You can’t promise that, Cinderella.” He breathed. His chest felt tight, constricted. “You can’t, no matter how much I wish you could.” He tried to settle into her grip, but he was limp. Numb. There was nothing._

_Adam and Eve, in their artificial Garden of Eden, bound to create a race of offspring slaves for the Talosians and their brains. Adam and Eve, the forebears in the hands of a vengeful race playing God. Adam and Eve, forced into their roles, forced into mental servitude to false prophets._

_Adam and Eve, but this time the forbidden fruit was all too real._


	6. The Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> valentine's day special!

“For once I actually followed through,” Pike whispered into the dark.

“I didn’t.”

His grey eyes blinked open. Pike took a second before he answered, relishing in the feel of their bodies pressed together. They had agreed on no presents this Valentine’s Day; if they weren’t transferred to Discovery, it may have been different. He always went along with her “no presents” but always broke the rules. Little chocolates (her favorites were also his: caramel filled), glittery cards. Once long ago he’d bought them matching necklaces from a crappy, on-campus store. The light metal ones, two halves of a heart. Made for teenage girls with washy crushes.

Even so, he could feel it still against his collarbone.

He could feel her body pressed against his, her leg thrown over his waist. The slow rise and fall of her breasts against his ribs, her cheek to his chest. Her fingertips traced over the bumpy scar that the Talosians left him.

“Are you asleep?”

“No,” Pike grunted, drawing his knee up. The sheets escaped him and slid down onto the bed.

“I have something for you, then.”

Aurora pushed herself up, caressing his jaw for a moment just long enough to kiss him. Nothing would equate to the feeling of being kissed. Nothing would ever rise to the feeling of her lips against his, of her palm over his beating heart. He was almost sad when she lifted off the bed, vanishing for a moment in the darkness of his quarters.

She returned, maneuvering his leg to sit between his thighs.

“It’s still technically Valentine’s Day,” he glanced at the clock as he sat up, lovingly dragging his fingers down her spine before sliding his arms around her middle, “does this count as a Valentine’s present, Commander?”

“Only if you want it to, Captain.”

Pike smiled against her hair. A series of clicks sounded and she placed the metal disk on the mattress near his knee, pressing on its center.

“This is the first undocumented star cluster Enterprise encountered,” Aurora stated, leaning back into his chest. He planted a kiss against the crook of her neck. “Starfleet gave me the honor of naming one of the stars. The biggest and oldest is billions of years old, and still has billions of years left. It’s the brightest in the cluster.” He hummed against her skin, pausing a moment to mouth at the pulsing vein beneath her skin.

“Name it something clever,” he snorted quietly, “something that will make High Command give each other uncomfortable looks every time they say it.”

“As tempting as that was,” she reached up into his hair to direct his attention to the projected hologram. “I named it after you.”

She pressed the largest star and it took up the projection, stats appearing beside it. Temperature, weight, diameter, composition, location. Some sections were still empty, but in big, pale blue letters it read PIKE.

He felt a surge of adrenaline course through him—pure excitement. There was a star. A star with his name. That was some kind of boyish fantasy he’d only dreamed about. Sure, it was in the ass end of space, but…it was his. And the woman in his arms was responsible for it.

“I knew I loved you for a reason,” he smiled widely into her shoulder. Aurora turned in his arms to pepper his cheek with kisses, rubbing her fingers into his messy hair. “You’re too good to me.”

“Someone has to be,” she murmured back. “You deserve it.”


	7. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 - "why are you so jealous?"

She stared at him from across the table, watching his fingers trace the glasswork of his cup. He’d been despondent since they’d escaped the Talosians, since Boyce, Spock, and Number One had been able to reach them. She couldn’t blame him, but it wouldn’t excuse his general outward attitude. Snappish, disappointed by everything and everyone, unwilling to do just about anything.  _It isn’t my problem,_  he’d say.

She’d never seen Christopher Pike so…un-Christopher Pike like. It was like he was still trapped on Talos, still subject to their torture. His body was here but his heart and mind had been carved out and left behind. For close to a week she’d tried everything in her power to soften his apparent sadness, but each time he’d pushed her away with increasing anger. Boyce confirmed her suspicions late one night while she cried on his shoulder, giving her knee a grandfatherly pat and saying:  _Clinical depression sure is a bitch. For people like him, it’s just so much worse._

People like him? She was beginning to lose sight of who that was. And, she feared, of who  _he_  was.

Christopher lazily looked up, his chin placed in his palm. He stared at her for a long while before trying to muster a smile to his face. It died halfway through. He gave up. His disappointed sigh echoed loud in her ears, and Pike’s gaze fell away and back to the last sip of Andorian brandy in his glass. She never remembered him drinking it before, surely never drinking anything in such abundance. But she watched as his tolerance for it built up, as he slowly added those meaningful milliseconds of pouring time, as the grimace on his face began to disappear after every sip. She vowed to herself late at night, lying still in his arms, that she wouldn’t let him plunge into alcohol. Depression could be worked through, helped—and by the gods, she would help him if it was the last thing she did. But she would not let him become a drunk, not let him stoop to the level of lesser men. Christopher Pike would not succumb to the solace of drink.

“You’re quiet.” He noted. His words sounded mildly disinterested, and they were accompanied by a small shrug. As if he was obliged to speak to her, but it was not something he wanted to do. He shifted in his chair, lifting that last damned sip to his lips. “You look depressed. You have nothing to be sad about.” He scoffed under his breath. What was that in his voice…anger? Malcontent? Hatred?

Jealousy?

Yes, jealousy. It clicked. He was jealous of her apparent lack of emotion, wished he could feel the same thing. Of her “happiness”. Her eyes narrowed at him across the table.

“Why are you so jealous?”

Pike snorted.

“Jealous?” He echoed.

“You think you’re not capable of happiness? You think it’s everyone else’s fault.”

“What is?”

“Everything. God, Chris, you’re becoming less and less of the man I love.”

“Oh, so you don’t love me anymore? Is that it?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Well you’ve never said you love me before. So how do I know you did to begin with?”

Aurora shot up, nearly knocking over her chair. The cafeteria was empty for now, but when the midnight shift was let off it would become home to a few hungry stragglers. They stared at each other for a few dense moments before she blurted:

“I’m pregnant.”

She watched as his face contorted into despair and then shock and then a confused mix of everything. A million questions she had the answers to: yes, she was sure. Yes, it was his. Yes, it was because of the Talosians. Yes, they’d keep it between them. And yes, she’d be leaving. Pike became ghastly sober for a brief time, searching her steely gaze for any kind of remorse. There was none.

He reached his hand to her stomach, but was stopped by a death grip on his wrist.  _God, just let him feel it. He has a right to_. She pushed that thought away. He would have a right, no, a  _privilege_ , later on, if he ever stopped being jealous of the world. Pike’s fingers curled away from her, and he slumped back into his chair. She stepped back, leaving him and his empty glass and the replicator all alone in the cafeteria.

_“Why are you so jealous?”_


	8. That Was Hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 18 - "that was hot"

Tilly watched Pike’s fingers drum against the table, then stop to unbutton both sleeves and push them up his forearms. The satin fabric was rich burgundy in color, a perfect match to the long-sleeved, open-backed dress Aurora sat in beside him. Pike plucked his glass from the table and leaned back, one arm stretching across the woman’s chair.

“—I know! It was terrible, really.”

Michael’s laughter pulled her away from her observations, just as a hand fluttered down to rest on the captain’s knee. Stamets was laughing too, and Hugh looked…sullen, but amused. Something about him wasn’t quite right yet. But he was getting there, slowly, reconstructing himself. With Stamets’ help.

Her eyes traveled back to Pike. His hair wasn’t gelled back as it usually was, but rather messy and only the recipient of minimal combing. More like finger-combing than actual combing. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone, but the fabric was snug around his shoulder, biceps, and chest.

_Damn, was she really checking out the captain?_

Yes, yes she was. Shamelessly.

The music inside the restaurant they were sitting outside of seemed to shift, consequently raising Pike’s eyes. His ears were listening intently for something. A warm summer breeze rolled through Mojave, carrying with it the low strum of an upright bass.

Pike stood with conviction, grabbing Aurora’s hand. She didn’t stop her storytelling until he circled behind her, dragging their conjoined fingers across her line of vision and pulling her onto her feet. And before she had even left the table, his voice breached hers:

_**Fly me to the moon,** _

_**Let me play among the stars** _

_**Let me see what spring is like on,** _

_**a-Jupiter and Mars** _

Shit. And he could sing pretty well. Not a Pavarotti or an Elvis, but some kind of rugged, untrained Sinatra. Piano notes joined the upright bass inside, along with an airy flute.

_**In other words,** _

_**Hold my hand** _

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling the commander close enough to press their chests together. Then he found her hand and wrapped it in his fingers, letting it rest on his collarbone.

_**In other words,** _

_**Baby, kiss me** _

And he did kiss her, with a shit-eating grin on his face. He had started to sway at just the right moment so his back was to the table when their lips meant. The table tried to go back to their quiet chatter, but Pike started the next verse, his feet taking the pair of them swinging away from the group:

_**Fill my heart with song and** _

_**Let me sing for evermore** _

_**You are all I long for,** _

_**All I worship,** _

_**And adore** _

Aurora’s fingers found their way to his hairline at the back of his neck, vanishing into dark strands. There was something exotically pleasing about the image of her hand on the nape of his neck, something Tilly was sure wouldn’t end well for her if she thought about too much.

_**In other words,** _

_**Please be true** _

_**In other words,** _

_**I love you** _

Michael kicked her under the table and whispered something about staring, and then Saru turned everyone’s attention away once more. But Tilly did not rejoin the conversation. She watched Pike dance on his toes like he was born to it, twirling that woman to the full stretch of his arm and back into the warmth of his chest. She listened to him sing, loud and proud at first but then he got softer, singing for only her, to only her. She watched them kiss like a pair of lovesick teenagers, giggling against each other’s mouths, touching their noses together, foreheads pressed against one another. She watched as Pike’s hands splayed against the curve of Aurora’s back, affirming her closeness to him, basking in her presence. Tilly had seen them close on only a few occasions, but never had she been close enough to know Pike’s jaw movement meant he was  _kissing with tongue._  Their moments together were usually reserved for safe times and safe places, alone. But the little touches and looks built up. They held hands more recently in the open, kissed each other’s cheeks and hands, but kissing for the general public was left to a minimum. But they danced with no room whatsoever for Jesus, nor any hint of any religion to squeeze through. Not even the holiest of holies could part the burgundy sea.

When they returned to the table no one gave it special attention, but Tilly continued to regard them over the rim of her glass. They sat closer than before, and when Aurora leaned forward to grab the communal wine bottle, Pike’s fingers trailed lazily down her spine. His arm moved so his hand could caress her hip. She refilled her glass and then his own, and they clinked them together and drank. Tilly glanced between the table’s conversation and theirs, the way the captain’s hand rubbed a scandalously low circle against her dress, the way they murmured to each other with faces mere inches apart. They were not usually so open, so carefree about their relationship, but Tilly found it refreshing. For her and them, no doubt. Mojave was Pike’s home—countless people had recognized him on their outing—and he was gracious enough to invite them to it after all the turmoil. She was glad for the rest. She was sure they were too.

And then, just when she thought they were done, she watched Pike’s lips duck beside her cheek, whisper something against the ridge of her ear. Aurora smiled against the glass. Pike squeezed her hip, then bit down on her earlobe, giving it a playful tug with that ever-knowing sinful grin, and swigged the last of his wine.

So maybe Tilly would have to come out to dinner with her friends more often, and maybe they’d have to bring the captain with them.

But  _shit, that was hot._

 

 


	9. Pike/Aurora Blurb 1

Pike smiled over the rim of his glass. Sea green eyes turned sunset sparkled back at him, lit further by the smile pushing at her lips. He loved her with her hair down. He loved her with it up, too. He loved her pressed against him in the morning and settling into his arms at night. He loved her over lunch in the cafeteria. He loved her when they slow danced in his quarters after long days or awry missions, when they sat in bed together and watched stars pass their drifting starship. He loved her in uniform and in nothing. He loved that her smile turned sheepish when he stared for too long. He loved her.


	10. Pike/Aurora Blurb 2

Cornwell snorted, her eyes lingering on Pike for a second. Without hesitation, she readjusted her hand on her hip and looked across Pike’s silver crown to Aurora. Standing dutifully at his side, eyes trained on the view screen. Her hand tight on the back of the captain’s chair—why hadn’t Starfleet made her the captain?

“Commander,” Cornwell earned her attention, and gestured vaguely to Pike, “how do you put up with him?” Oh, Cornwell was very aware of her relationship with the Captain. Or rather, the Captain’s relationship with her. Or both. And she was very aware that it’d been going on as long as they’d been in Starfleet, and neither of them had filed a relationship report. Ever. Aurora smiled at her and briefly touched Pike’s hair.

“Sometimes I threaten to file a relationship report.”


	11. From the Ashes of Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wrote this BEFORE i decided that aurora dies in the delta ray incident...

Aurora is sipping her tea while Pike is plunging into delta rays on that J-class cruiser. She had just hung up from calling him—her last words to him are “come home soon, okay?”. He said he would. He said he loved her and then someone barged into his ready room, spouting something about cadets. She caught the minute roll of his eyes before he put down his tea and headed out.

She didn’t expect it to be so terrible. Or heartbreaking. His body is mangled and unrecognizable when he gets back. They tell her it’s Christopher Pike, her Christopher Pike, the Admiral. She says no, and patiently waits for him to stride off the J-class cruiser on healthy legs with a grin touching his face and a natural swing to his strong arms. She waits and waits and waits. Then, when the crowd begins to thin, she realizes that yes, yes, that is her Christopher Pike. Hovering on the brink of death, his tritanium eyes glossy and dull. And she’s been ignoring him the whole time.

They put him through surgery after surgery, and slowly, each cadet—all 200—come to pay their respects to her in the hospital waiting room. Their relationship had been a secret for years upon years, but Pike must’ve been more open on this J-class cruiser. She didn’t doubt it. Every crew under him had come to know. Tilly is offworld but tries to comfort her through holograms. But Christopher doesn’t die. She should’ve guessed it. All his countless brushes with death and she thought this would be the one. Yet he doesn’t.

Kirk holds her tight. He confesses things she never thought she’d live to hear—and Kirk ends up crying, too, because he hates to see his “mother” in pain and he can’t bear to see his “father” reduced to nothing. He wails about Pike’s strength and charm and his damned smile and the hospital staff kindly ask them to leave if they’re going to be so loud. So they cry together outside.

Most of his face comes back to her. His square jaw, his dimples, his straight nose and prominent brow bone, his cheeks and his lips. But the other half remains on that J-class cruiser. She doesn’t care. She loves him. She hugs his fragile body, once so strong, determined, confident. She cries. He cries too, although it hurts  _so so much_  to cry. He nudges his head gingerly against her shoulder and cries. He tries to form words. Her name, and an apology. She can read lips, but he can’t make a sound. Then finally, after watching him try relentlessly, a sound so hoarse and low it’s barely a sound at all escapes him:

“Rora.”

The doctors tell her he’ll never speak again. He’ll never joke or sing or give an order again. She isn’t sure which is worse: the devastation that makes his body crumple against her or her scream.

Starfleet honors him as if he’s already dead. She pushes for a medal named after him. Cornwell agrees, and together the two women force the idea into action. Cornwell and Kirk name a library after her. They put two statues, not holograms (Chris hates holograms—they look like ghosts) outside this library, on a legendary fountain. Or, a fountain that’s legendary to them, and Kirk, who knows all the stories of one or waiting for the other at the fountain, the first kiss that happened at the fountain, the stargazing, the talking, the crying. All at the fountain. Their two young statues sit there, hand in hand, her head on his bronze shoulder, one of his arms lifted to point towards the sky. Some nights, if you follow his finger and his gaze, you see a planet. Or a constellation. Either way, it becomes a popular attraction, or so Spock tells her. She doesn’t get to see it, but she doesn’t mind.

When the Talosians agreed, that was all she cared about.

Christopher felt his own body the first moments in their illusion life. He touched his right cheek, ran a hand through his full hair. Palmed his chest and his stomach, pressed his fingers into his thighs and hips, rolled his shoulders back and squeezed his biceps. He took a couple steps, wiggled his toes. Then he spoke. Then they both cried.

They cried for God knows how long, wrapped in each other’s arms, not caring that it was all an illusion. There was less grey in his hair and hers; they were Discovery-young again, back in their prime. But they were in Mojave. The beautiful diamond of Mojave City glimmered in the distance, and trees swayed around them. There was a picnic set up on the grass to her left, and two horses grazing on her right.

Pike crumbled again, this time of his own free will, and continued to cry. She held him close. He cried until her shirt was soaked and his head was pounding, but he didn’t care. He kissed her for the first time in light years, a kiss that lingered for an incredibly long time, a kiss he only broke to spare some oxygen. The sun was setting on Mojave.

“I’ve always wanted this,” he confessed. “A life with you.”

“Oh, Chris,” she said, “you’ve always had a life with me.”


	12. Sonnet 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10 - staring at the other's lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in

“Time, people.”

Pike’s words came through the sorrowful silence of the bridge, cutting the dense air like a knife. Owosekun jolted at her controls, and Detmer’s sulking shoulders straightened. All at once, their eyes settled on the captain.  
“Beta shift is over.” Detmer’s brow creased and she turned back to her controls, fumbling around for the time before swiveling to Pike.  
“Beta shift has another three hours, sir.” The captain folded his hands behind his back, and said nothing. They all shared equally confused looks, until Aurora poked out from behind the screen at comms.   
“He’s letting you all go early.” She half-whispered to the multiple countenances of distress on the bridge. Realization swept over them. Michael was first to protest.  
“Sir, Starfleet requires that-”  
“You’ve all been through a hell of a time,” Pike cut her off with a polite nod, “if we lost friends like Airiam every day, I wouldn’t be standing here, telling you all to get some rest and take some time to yourselves.” His tritanium eyes found her across Bryce’s head. “Commander Aurora and I will man the bridge. I’m sure you’ll hear the red alert if something is wrong.”

The sympathy in his face parted to allow a little grin, dimpled smile becoming the only source of joy on the bridge. The rest of them looked pallid, grave. It had been hard to return to their stations after they’d watched Airiam be ejected, beamed her frozen body back on board. Pike had watched his crew’s focus vanish after that, their hearts wilt. He wouldn’t force them, no. He wouldn’t make them work through three more grueling hours of keeping the tears at bay, of shooting each other supportive glances and broken smiles. No, they deserved this.

Each of them filed out slowly, even Michael, and began disappearing in groups small enough for the turbolift. Their voices were soft and quiet, like individual dirges. Some of them thanked him and he only smiled, stood there like a shining blue and gold obelisk of hope and compassion. And they knew it; they all knew it. When finally he had convinced Nhan to get some much needed rest, the captain migrated towards comms, where the last soul left on the bridge resided.  
“They needed that,” he sighed, eyes gradually surveying all the empty seats. Aurora stood to be eye-level, or close as she could get to eye-level, with him. “God, I remember trying to work a shift without you here. It was torture.” Christopher Pike chuckled gently. “I couldn’t just sit here and let them all…slip away.” His gaze fixed on the view screen. Aurora merely hummed a reply. She had considered leaving too, or even having him switch the shifts early so they could both go. She didn’t drink, but a drink would do well to dull her headache just about now. That, or a nap. Or a kiss.

Pike’s closeness to her was comforting enough, though. The man radiated warmth like a sun; the smoothness of his voice even so low and quiet, almost an exhausted whisper, was like a massage for her throbbing temples. In the little time she’d known Airiam…no. No, she pushed that thought away. Closed her eyes for a brief second before opening them again. Grief could come, and it would come, but not when she had three hours left to mull over. 

 _Focus on the Adonis of a man in front of you._  

Pike’s– _Christopher_ , she said to herself–head was still turned, the sharp angles of his side profile clear against the glarish blue lights of the bridge. The straight bullet line of his jaw curved upwards into his chin, which met the ruler-edge slope of his nose, coming together at his lips. The same lips she’d love to feel. The same lips that curved into a knowing smile, even as he remained still.

“I can feel you staring at me, Cinderella.” Christopher murmured, pale blue light dancing with amusement in his eyes. “Are you waiting for me to do something?” Aurora let a smile break the intensity written into her features. Her palms traveled upwards to caress his cheeks and turn his face to her.  
“Sonnet 18?”

The captain laughed, sliding his arms around the woman in front of him and pulling them closer together.  
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day–that one, really?” She nodded emphatically. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date.” One hand fitted to the shoulder of his uniform while the other traced the ridge of his ear, skirting down the same admired jawline from before. “Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion is dimmed; and ever fair from fair sometime declines, by chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed.” Shifting onto her toes, Aurora pressed him down to where their foreheads could meet, letting his voice flow still in its gentle serenity. The next few lines she knew; hell, she knew the entire sonnet, but it sounded just so much better when he said it. And so she indulged herself, determined to see it through to the end, all the while shamelessly watching his entirely  _kissable_  lips form words he recited from memory. “But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st. Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade, when in eternal lines-”

The next words died in his throat, though, swallowed up by the soft kiss she pressed against Captain Christopher Pike’s lips. A kiss, she felt, they both needed more than the other could possibly know. A kiss that made her fingers squeeze the back of his neck, that made his palms splay against the curve of her back. A kiss revived only short seconds after it was broken for air, and then revived again. It ended with Chris’s breathless little chuckle, grey-blue eyes closed.

“You couldn’t have let me finish, could you?” He mumbled, lips still close enough to brush hers as he spoke. Aurora smiled against him.  
“I couldn’t.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5 - hands on the other person’s back, fingertips pressing under their top, drawing gentle circles against that small strip of bare skin that make them break the kiss with a gasp...with a guest appearance by boyce!

The Enterprise is clean and white and beautiful. He affectionately runs his hands over the chair–his chair, actually–before sighing. He’s missed his bridge, missed the color and people on it. It’s empty now, and everyone is preparing themselves for the inevitable battle to come. All of Discovery has been evacuated, and now the second ship sits vacant.

“Gods, you look so much better in gold.” Pike turns away from the view screen with a grin growing on his features. “I missed you in it.”

“And you look so much better in red,” he purrs back, sliding his arms around Aurora as she approaches. Her hands run up and down his arms, finally settling on his chest. Her smile wavers.

“I’m still thinking about Leland.”

“Don’t, sweetheart. Don’t burden yourself with that.” He coos, resting his forehead against hers. “I promised you I’d do everything in my power to save him. I meant it.”

Part of him knows there’s no getting Leland back, and he thinks she knows it too. But Leland is her friend, maybe her only friend left in the universe, and he is obliged to give her hope.

Aurora is silent for a second before she nods.

“Thank you for that.” Her tone confirms his suspicions; she doesn’t expect Leland to live. But she needs his help in fooling herself that he may.

Pike leans down to kiss her, his hands sliding down her spine to spread against the small of her back. He feels like it’s been forever since he kissed her. Maybe it’s just the Enterprise. The feeling of being home, on their own starship—it’s been flooding his senses with pride and comfort ever since he stepped off the transporter. She kisses back like she understands the feeling exactly.  _Their baby_ , he sometimes jokingly calls the ship.

This kiss is one he feels as if he sorely needs, and has needed for days. A moment alone, back where they belong. He allows his hands to travel, allows his lips to make passionate love to hers, allows her body to lean into him. He remembers the door will still open for anyone, but suddenly doesn’t care. His fingers find the small of her back, the spot she loves, and press small, tight circles against her uniform. The archivist exhales against his mouth, grip tightening on his golden shoulders.

The little gasp, an exquisite sound that reached his ears, that made her break away was swallowed up by a third voice, disgruntled but unsurprised:

“Christ, you two are so predictable. You leave for a few months and the first thing you do is make out on the bridge like a couple of teenagers when you get back.”

“Boyce,” Pike’s amusement touches his eyes but his voice is laced with affection. He’d missed the grumpy old doctor more than either of them would ever admit.

“Chris.” To his surprise, Boyce smiles at him and extends a hand. Pike ignores it and hugs him instead. A strictly manly hug, with a clap on the shoulder, because Boyce isn’t here for chick-flick moments. In fact, when the captain pulls away, he lifts his other hand, laden with three champagne glasses and an accompanying bottle tucked under his arm. “A welcome-home present.” The doctor explains.

Chris smiles at Aurora who takes his arm and smiles back. Oh, but she has missed him in gold.


	14. Hell on Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so when discovery first aired, i was still caught up in hell on wheels. once i started discovery and realized it was ALSO anson mount, this hell on wheels AU popped into my head. :)

“Can I help you?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“I was told to come ‘n see you,” Pike replied, one hand plucking the hat from his head. “For work?”

The woman looked up, eyeing him for a moment. Then she smiled, stood, and extended her hand to him.

“You are?”

“Uh, Christopher. Pike.”

“Well, Mr. Pike, whoever told you to come to me was misleading you,” she circled her rickety wooden desk—little more than a card table—and leaned back against it in front of him. “A mild southwestern accent doesn’t make you a foreigner.”

He quirked an eyebrow but said nothing.

“My job here includes bookkeeping and speaking the languages no one else can.” She smiled at him again, her sea green eyes fixed on his steel ones. “You’ll want Johnson. Come, I’ll walk you to him.”

“Oh, you ain’t got-“

“I’d like to get to know you, Christopher Pike.” She insisted, grabbing her coat off the desk and shrugging it on. A woman in pants and a waistcoat—something he’d have to get used to. They weren’t pretty female versions of male clothing, either. Wherever she’d found them in her size, though, eluded him. “Why have you come to the railroad?”

She pushed back the tent flap and and held it for him. He ducked and shoved his hat back on, squinting against the late morning sun.

“Just for work,” he grunted in reply.

“A man of few words, then.” She hummed, trudging just a step ahead of him through the mud. His step faltered. His hand itched for his gun, the Griswold strapped safely to his hip. With a sigh, he bit the inside of his cheek before speaking again. “I ain’t got nowhere else to go, miss.”

“You fought in the war?”

He hesitated before answering; a short, gruff: “Yeah.”

“For the rebels, I presume.”

“Yeah.” She glanced at him over her shoulder and then smiled again.

“I harbor no hard feelings, Mr. Pike. You had just as much a motive to fight as any of the Feds.”

Their boots squelched in unison as they trudged through the soaked ground. This place reeked of ale, sweat, and sickness. A whore vomited across the road. A group of aliens eyed them as they passed. Part of him didn’t want to stay here long—another part craved the filth.

He almost walked right by her, not noticing her stop. She was short when she stood beside him, coming up only to his shoulders, maybe. She gestured to an older man with a scruffy white beard sitting at a table, ledger in front of him and pen in hand. He wrote awkwardly with his left hand.

“Mr. Johnson!” She called, gesturing for Pike to follow as she moved forward. “You can stop sending the ‘foreigners’ to me if they speak English.”

“Well, I didn’t send him to ya, Miss Rora.” Pike bit back a stupid grin. This old man was hardly a talker himself—his voice was low but growly, and he slurred everything together as if drunk. “Name, son?”

“Chris. Pike.”

The woman turned away, about to trek back through the mud when he, against his better judgement, whipped around to stop her.

“Uh—miss? I didn’t get your name.”

“Because I never gave it,” she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, “but it’s Aurora.”

He nodded. His forefinger went up to brush the brim of his hat.

“Much obliged, Aurora.”


	15. Do It!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 - a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss

Chris Pike, for the life of him, could not stop blinking. Or running a hand through his hair. Or bouncing his knee. Or checking the campus grounds around him nervously, like a man in a desert surveying the horizon for an oasis. He was going to tell her. He was going to tell her today. Right now. He was going to do it.

_He loved her._

He’d known for so damn long now, it almost hurt to keep it in. She slipped into step beside him on the way to class and he wanted to blurt it out for the entire Academy to hear; she smiled encouragingly when he got fed up with astrophysics (some shit will just never make sense to him), and he wanted to stand on the table and scream it to the library. Leland had been bugging him about it, too, and Chris would do anything to get Leland of all people off his back. He didn’t want this to be ruined. He didn’t want her to hear it from anyone but him.

“Chris?” He bolted up, kicking over his backpack in the process. There she stood, just in front of him, jean skirt and black long sleeve swallowed up by a cardigan the color of red Mojave clay. With the setting sun framing her head, like the holiest of halos. God, if only the sun didn’t hurt so damn much, he could–and he  _would_ –stare at her for ages. He was almost certain she was some kind of angel, some kind of angel who looked great in the color of red Mojave clay. Who looked great in everything, if he was honest, and Chris Pike was nothing if not honest. Then suddenly, her face shifted into mild concern. “You look tired. Do you have a headache?”

Pike restrained from pinching himself. A smile spread his focused features and he meandered forward, wrapping her in his arms.

“The most peerless piece of earth, I think, that e'er the sun shone bright on.” He said, and instantly kicked himself. Jesus Christ, Chris, could you stop quoting Shakespeare for just one second? Maybe? Cut yourself some slack?

Nevertheless, she smiled. His doubts melted away.

“Winter’s Tale.” A chilled breeze rolled through campus, a taste of winter yet to come. He didn’t even wait to feel her shudder before pulling her into his embrace, tucking his head down so she was encased in the warmth of his torso.

 _Time. Let’s go. Do it!_  What are you waiting for? Aurora let out a long sigh into his chest, wrapping the sleeves of her sweater around her fists before hugging him back.

“H-How was your day?” And there he went, sputtering like a fish out of water. Without leaving his grip, she told him about her day, detailing her classes and her project with Leland, her ultimately poor decision to wear a skirt this late into autumn. He chuckled and hummed and replied at all the key points, all the while ignoring the screechy little voice (that sounded strangely like Leland) in the back of his head:  _Go! Go! Go! Do it! Do it! DO IT!_

“How was yours?” Aurora positioned her head so her chin was against his uppermost rib, just below his collarbone. Those beautiful sea green eyes patiently awaited an answer, filled with affection and quiet joy and…everything he loved.

“Pretty good,” came the automatic response. Chris freed one hand to let his fingers dance gently over her cheek. Her skin was cold under his hot digits. “I wanted to see you.” He gave her the dimpled smile he knew she adored. She smiled right back; his knees went weak.

“You’re seeing me.” Pike lifted his head away to laugh.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you–nothing bad!” He added quickly, watching her smile falter. He supposed there’d already been enough people let her down in her life.  _Do it! You’re so close! Do it!_ “I…” he swallowed. Oh, God. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God. He was choking now? At a time like this? “Yooooou…look beautiful today! Just like every other day.” He laughed again, but this time his heart wasn’t in it. So he’d gotten the “I” and the “you” out. He was simply missing the middle word, but that was simple, right? One syllable, quick and easy, in and out?

Pike shook his thoughts away and instead busied himself with a kiss, flattening his palm to lightly caress her cheek and guide her surprised lips up to his. Her lips were just as delectably soft as the first time he kissed them, just as wonderful. Cold, but wonderful. She shivered on the next breeze and he cursed himself for making her stand out here in the cold just so he could grow the balls to tell her he loved her. After this kiss, he told himself. And then that kiss strung into a little series of the lightest, sweetest, softest kisses he’d ever dreamed of. The familiar feeling of her fingers sliding into his hair from the nape of his neck set his nerves on fire.

With reluctance he pulled away from the pillows of her lips, pulled away from their shared tenderness and love. He never wanted that kiss to end. But here he was, rubbing his thumbs along her cheekbones, those sea green eyes closer than ever before, and three words tumbled from his mouth:

“I love you.”

It was like a shock to his system, to finally heard it spoken. He’d played this conversation out so many times in his head before, thought of it in the shower. This wasn’t even remotely close to any of the scenarios he’d dreamt up. And then, to his surprise, he said it again, with a grin growing on his face: “I love you!” He kissed her again, this time with more vigor, bringing her face to his and combing his fingers through her silky hair and putting his jaw into it and tilting his head to project a new angle and unable to stop his smile from creeping into the kiss.

“Chris,” she breathed. She looked scared but also elated, unable to fully comprehend or reply.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he pushed her hair away from her face, “I don’t need anything. Just you.” He saw the first tears pricking at her eyes, the tremble of her lip. Her fists curled into his jacket. He frowned. “Hey, hey, Cinderella—it’s alright, it’s alright. I’m sorry. I-I should’ve…should’ve waited…”

And then she wrenched him forward into a heady kiss of her own, putting her jaw into it as well and squeezing the back of his neck and then slowly letting him go, jacket first.

“I love you too.”


	16. With Quiet Courage - 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pike should’ve listened when L’Rell said the crystals extract a great price; but he’s bound by his oath and his conscience to pay it anyway, no matter what it entails. Even if it means giving up himself; even if it means giving up Aurora.

His scream died in his ears, eyes stinging. The ground was scraping and unforgiving against his palms.  _Oh Christ, help me. Jesus, save me._  He couldn’t—he couldn’t do that. Not to himself. Not to her. O Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.  _Christ, don’t make me do this._

“You have seen your future, Captain Pike.” The light-skinned Klingon said. “You must make your choice.”

“ _Aurora! Get out of here!”_

_“You go! I can fix this! Just hold on!”_

He could feel his chest constricting, ready to scream all over again. Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered his knuckles from his mouth.  _Oh God, oh God. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. I can’t let her die._

He clutched at the blue uniform covering him, fingertips brushing his badge. The badge. Pike curled his palm around it. The badge was a reminder of who he was, who he had become, who he’d always wanted to be.

“You are a Starfleet captain,” he whispered, voice breaking on each word. He needed Aurora. She would know what to say. “You believe in service, in sacrifice-“ did he? Could he believe in that now? He could retire, like he meant to all those years ago after Rigel VII. He could live back at Mojave on the beach and never touch a starship again. “-in love.” Oh Christ, she was going to die if he took this crystal. And he was going to…to melt away, into a former husk of himself, never again to be  _Captain Pike._ No—no, he had been wearing grey.  _Admiral Pike._

The crystals demand a great price, L’Rell had told him. She was his price; he was his own price. His love, their love, their life together. All to be swept away in a freak accident. Blown out like a waning candle, as if it had never existed. Like the beautiful thing they had created and nurtured like their own child had never been born. He couldn’t bare it. The thought of losing all they had done together. All the nights in each other’s arms and all the stargazing, all the late nights in med bay, all the lazy touches in the morning, all the dinners together. He couldn’t erase that. God, but he had to.

“No,” he spoke while his mind was still crushed by dread, “no.” His hands were pushing him up, fighting off the asthma attack building in his veins. Suddenly the ground was below his unstable feet. “I can’t turn my back on everything that makes me who I am just because-“ if only his goddamn voice would stop wavering- “-because it contains an outcome I…I hadn’t foreseen for myself.”  _Or for you, Rora._  Jesus Christ Almighty, was he really accepting this? No, please, Chris. You can’t. You know you can’t. “Give it to me.”

The Klingon looked astounded for a brief moment, before turning to break the damned thing free of the earth it sat in. He could still turn back. He could leave, run, far away. Take Aurora, desert. The Orion colonies, maybe. Retire. Mojave, in all its glimmering glory, sat in his mind.

“Oh, God, Cinderella.”

_“Go, Chris! Go n-” Her voice was swallowed by the explosion. Vaguely, he hears the cadets screaming for him. Captain Pike, Captain Pike._

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His knuckles turned white around the godforsaken thing. “Forgive me.”

And the crystal sat in his hand.


	17. With Quiet Courage - 2

The asthma attack hit him fast and ruthless the moment his atoms were reassembled back onto Discovery. He crumpled, only vaguely hearing Aurora’s worried voice calling him. The crystal clattered from his hand, down the steps. She dove for it. He begged her not to. She grabbed it.

_“Go, Chris! Go!” She was shouting, glancing back to a distraught looking Pike. Dressed in cool, sterile grey, glancing wildly around the cabin. “I can fix this! Just a second!”_

_“Radiation leak detected.” The computer sang._

_“Get out of here, Rora! Go!” He threw his arms towards the door. Alarms everywhere, the glass cracking in front of her. Her hands wiped furiously at the display, flying over buttons and controls. Pike’s shouting never ceased, and then she turned to shut him up when—_

_She was standing outside, in the early winter chill. People filtered slowly around her, murmuring amongst themselves. Black, black everywhere. She followed the flow of people. Her clothes were torn and ragged, warm with the heat of…of an explosion. She only vaguely remembered it. Aurora stumbled through the crowd, following the general flow of bodies until the sea of people spit her out onto a huge, open podium. Flags fluttering in the breeze, Starfleet’s finest lined up in dark uniforms, dressed in solemn faces. Someone talking at the podium—a redhead, with beautiful curls and a tendency to wring her hands._

_And a coffin. It was open, but an electromagnetic shield shimmered on top. Slowly, each step heavier and heavier, she approached it. Whose funeral was she at? What was happening? The coffin was exquisite, beautiful. She drew closer and closer, climbed up onto the dais, circling the flowers. The lid was open. She peered inside._

Hugh jolted upwards when her wail pierced the transporter room. Pike stiffened like a board, old fashioned inhaler halfway to his trembling lips.

“Christopher!”

“I’m here, I’m here, baby girl,” he grabbed for her and they broke together on the steps of the transporter pad. She was sobbing without truly knowing why. What…what had she just seen? Pike’s hand moved to rest over her closed eyes, blinding her to the rest of the world. The tears kept coming. His breathing was raggedy, began to skyrocket in uncertain and choppy patterns.

She didn’t know how long she cried, only that at some point he began to cry with her, sobbing like an infant, slumping down against her body. His hand never left her eyes, though. She could feel him collapse around her, like a ruin. Hugh forced the inhaler into his hand.

“I couldn’t do anything, baby, I couldn’t, I couldn’t. I’m so sorry.” He moaned. “Christ, I’m so sorry, Rora. There wasn’t anything I could do. This is my price, sweetheart, you—us, that’s my price.”

“It’s too high,” she said finally, limbs going numb and head on fire, “why’d you take it, Chris?”

“I-I had to, Rora.”

Of course.


	18. Pike/Aurora Blurb 3

And he wished, for a moment, that it was her hand against his cheek and not his own; her hand touching him, affirming him, assuring him. But it was not, and he had to settle into his calloused fingers and soft palms, breathing heavily. She had been swallowed by the inferno, her voice silenced, her cry of his name cut short. And in that instant he knew, he felt, while he stood at the precipice of the shadow of the valley of death, that he could not subject them to this fate, and that all he had to do was simply turn his head away, and they would live.


	19. Midnight in the Med Bay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 - routine kisses

“This was easily one of the best moments at the Academy.” Aurora giggles quietly, and for a second Boyce is tempted to turn around and see what she and Christopher have been looking at for the past hour. His young captain groans and, no doubt, runs a hand through his dark hair.

“That’s just cruel, Cinderella.”

“It’s hilarious.”

Their conversation trails off and in a solid minute is replaced by the telltale sound of lips coming together. Boyce rolls his eyes before putting his PADD down—no better time than the present to inject another hypo into the captain’s neck, right?

Even Phil, as he reaches for the dreaded instrument of medical treatment, has to admit he couldn’t envision a better person to cuddle onto the bed with Pike. His left leg was encased but the screen showed his bone and where it had been fractured many times over. It would be no quick recovery, that was for sure.

His arm is curled over the white shock of Aurora’s hair and his fingertips brush her neck. Kid has balls, Boyce has to admit. Kissing like a sick teenager in his med bay. He hates to ruin the moment but—he loves to ruin it too.

“Captain!” He barks, and almost instantly stabs the hypo into Chris’s neck. The younger man nearly falls off the biobed, yelling as his leg is wrenched a way it’s definitely not supposed to be wrenched.

“Jesus Christ, Boyce.” He whines, fingers coming to massage the part of his thigh not hidden by the encasement.

“You can do everything but make out in my medbay. Sir.” Phil grins as Chris frowns and Aurora hides a smile in her lover’s shoulder.

Boyce, satisfied with his stunting the growth of young love, returns to his desk. Pike mutters something about “feeling like he’s been injected with a horse tranquilizer”, and the doctor silently congratulates him. The kid isn’t far off. Aurora murmurs something back that makes him laugh, then grab his sides and groan. They are quiet for a moment before Aurora glances to the medical display at the head of the bed.

“Oh, I have to get going.” She slides away. “I have to be on the bridge.”

“You took a gamma shift?” Pike sounds like he’s about to cry.

“I’ll come back for you later, handsome,” she promises, laying a gentle hand on his forehead. “Sleep.”

They kiss again, but this time it’s quick and routine. Chris wants it to linger. She sends him an apologetic look over her shoulder, and he watches her go with a lost puppy look in his eyes.

The med bay is quiet after the doors hiss shut. He thinks his young captain is asleep, finally, because God knows he needs to rest. But he isn’t.

“Boyce-“

“No, Chris. You can’t kiss me too.”


	20. To Stay in Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 - lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up

His kisses started at the small of her back, stubble-lined lips sending goosebumps up her sides. He’d barely opened his eyes in the few minutes he’d been awake, feeling out her body with his hands and pulling blankets away. She murmured something into the arm tucked under her temple. He angled her hips down and bowed his head to meet her skin—it was all very methodic, very precise. In his experience, waking up to someone’s lips was far better than waking up to a screeching alarm.

 

“Don’t you dare get up,” he muttered against her spine, voice still thick and weighed down with exhaustion. He didn’t know how long he roamed her body, taking in every inch of the feminine landscape stretched out in front of him.

She turned over at his hand’s urging, breasts pressed to his scarred chest. Pike dug his fingers into her shock of white hair, lazily massaging her scalp. Her response was slow and tired, but he didn’t mind guiding their forming bliss along.

“I think we should stay in bed, sweetheart.” He breathed, planting his mouth to her jaw before creating a trail down her neck.

“Chris,” she half-moaned in protest, palms draped over the back of his neck.

“Mmh.” He skirted her thighs with his palms, moving her stiff joints to lock around him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”


	21. Sugar & Spice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 9 - “Oh God, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?”  
> part of my smutty april prompts list which can be found in the next chapter, if anyone wants to request for pike/aurora! to request for tharya/miraak or azriel/sebastian, you can just leave a comment on here specifying, or any of my Skyrim/Dragon Age works. :)

At first they’re just swaying, Marvin Gaye playing from somewhere in the dorm he shares with Leland. They’re both beyond tired, with one last day of finals looming before their third year at the Academy is over. Their first year together, consequently. He doesn’t know where Leland went, but he isn’t here so it doesn’t matter.

He also doesn’t know when he started kissing her, only that it started out slow and compassionate at first and grew. As if they were waking themselves up to each other’s lips. And he doesn’t mind. It’s when his mouth trails away from hers and latches onto her neck, arms hoisting her up so he doesn’t have to break his vertebrae to reach. The very first little mewl escapes her lips, and suddenly all thought of rocking together to Marvin Gaye is gone and he clings to that little sound. Elicits more—he’s promised to never bruise her up, but when he finds the spot he’s come to know on her skin and makes exquisite love to it, she moans against his ear.

“Christopher,” she whines, and he staggers forward until her shoulders rest against the wall. She was so tired before, nearly falling asleep in his arms. It was cute.

His hands crawl up her skirt to support her by the rear, allowing his pelvis to nestle forward against hers. Her moans drive him insane, now, forever. The first time he grinds up against her, the hitched little gasp that leaves her parted lips is more than enough.

“Oh Christ,” he groans, briefly bringing her into a kiss that leads with tongue, “you can’t just go sweet to sexy in thirty seconds, Cinderella.” Her fingers curl into his dark hair, and she melts into him.

“Watch me.”


	22. SMUT PROMPTS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut prompts as promised! feel free to request one whenever, this isn't limited to just this month :)

  1. “Are you going to eye fuck me all night or are you going to do something about it?”
  2. “I’m your first?”
  3. “Don’t be so rough. There can’t be any marks.”
  4. “Could he make you feel as good as I do?”
  5. “C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.”
  6. “Fuck, I love the sounds you make.”
  7. “Does that feel good?”
  8. “Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.”
  9. “Oh God, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?”
  10. “Guess I’ll just have to come in you then.”
  11. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.”
  12. “I can’t wait until we’re alone. There are so many things I want to do to you right now.”
  13. “Let me take care of you tonight.”
  14. “You’re beautiful, my goddess.”
  15. “Behave.”
  16. “You think you’re getting out of this that easily?”
  17. “Oh God—how are you still so tight?”
  18. “I really don’t care. You’re just so beautiful and I want to kiss you senseless right now.”
  19. “Don’t be shy.”
  20. “Make a noise and we’re both dead.”
  21. “I’d forgotten how you taste.”
  22. “Say my name again.”
  23. “Feel better now?”
  24. “I love it when you ride me.”
  25. “Do you trust me?”
  26. “I missed you.”
  27. “We don’t need the bed.”
  28. “How do I look?”
  29. “No, I’m supposed to be making you feel good.”
  30. “Is that a promise?”
  31. “You have your hand.”




	23. For a Good Cause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20 - "Make a noise and we're both dead."

The back room was all but abandoned when they stumbled in. He knows the walls are thin but he groans when she reaches up to loosen his tie. He has nothing against charity balls, he really doesn’t, he thinks they’re great and Starfleet is great for holding them, but his eyes hardly left the red on her lips and the way she glanced at him across the room all night.

“Make a noise and we’re both dead.” Christopher whispers against her lips, even as he pulls her legs up and around his waist, hiking the skirt out of his way.

“Yes, you should be quiet,” she counters, dragging her fingers down his jawline. It becomes a little game—every thrust he tries to hit a new angle, to make any kind of noise fly from her lips. He’s disappointed that he gets none but the silent pleasure on her face each time is remarkable. And just when he thinks he has her it’s _his own voice_ that betrays him. Her eyes fly open, terrified for a second, before they realize that no one has busted down the door yet which means no one heard him. One hand leaves his hair to dance across his cheekbone and over his lips. He’s more than happy to take her fingers in his mouth. He’s amazed how difficult it is for him to keep his mouth shut, and he’s sure his teeth are going to leave marks on the crease of her knuckles. But, anything to avoid being caught.


	24. Tainted Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27 - "we don't need the bed"

Tilly had been unconsciously watching the captain all night. Not in a creepy way, but….in a way. His dimpled smirk—because he hadn’t smiled once at this party, only smirked. The way he ran his fingers through his hair, the way his Adam’s Apple was evident when he threw back a drink. The way he occasionally leaned over to whisper something against Aurora’s ear, the way his hand disappeared when he did, how he straightened out with a sparkle of heat in his eyes.

And she concluded that her captain may be the hottest person in Starfleet.

 

He had migrated from the bar to the couch, to beer pong, and was approaching the bar again. Tilly had only seen him put down one or two drinks max in the hours this party had been raging. She considered approaching him, talking to him over the chorus of Tainted Love. But then she watched him sidle up behind Aurora, alone at the bar. His fingers discreetly grabbed her hip and pushed her body back into his. His lips ducked to murmur something. It was dark so she couldn’t see the way he pushed her up against him, like a singular rubbing motion.

 

And then they were walking out, hand in hand, with those happy couple smiles plastered on their faces. Against her better judgement, Tilly followed. She let them vanish into the hallway before stepping out into the little alcove of the doors. The first sound that reached her ears, above the beat of Soft Cell, was a strangled moan.

From the way they were kissing each other, Tilly had no doubt the captain’s lips—or the commander’s—would be quick to bruise. But whose first? A large hand disappeared between their arching bodies, and within seconds Aurora whimpered the captain’s name into his hairline. Breathlessly, she added something.

“We don’t need a bed,” Pike growled in return.

Oh.  _Oh._ In the safety of Pike’s arms, Aurora dragged him towards the turbo lift.

 

Without a word, Tilly returned to the thumping party.

_Touch me baby, tainted love_

She needed to find herself a…someone.

_Touch me baby, tainted love_


	25. Pike/Aurora Blurb 4

Everyone watched as they stood shoulder to shoulder, hands sliding to each other, fingers laced. Pike stood at the chair and Aurora stood beside him, each pair of eyes trained with a sorrowful, frightened, yet faraway look on the view screen. Talos IV. Aurora was first to move, gliding forward step by step, like each one was her last. Pike’s arm followed but he didn’t, and soon enough his fingers slipped out of her grasp. The commander never looked away. Pike never looked away. The bridge was suddenly filled with the lurking feeling that, just maybe, Talos IV was staring right back.


	26. Alone, Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 22 - "say my name"

He groans and drops to his elbows when she moves her legs around his waist, introducing a whole new feeling, whole new dimension to each thrust. It’s been too long since they’d had a moment to savor each other like this. He can tide himself over on little kisses and the way her hand rubs his hair, but they’d agreed to take no graveyard shifts tonight in order to find each other again.

“Oh— _Christopher_.” Her breath catches before his name floods from her lips like a sweet summer breeze. He’s so focused on her, on them, or he would’ve smiled. Pike will never not love the way she moans his name, soft and gentle, breathlessly but lovingly, like a caress that sends a tsunami of warmth through him. She’s always had a way of saying his name, a miraculous way.

“Say my name again,” he pleads delicately, his lips falling to her ear, then her neck. “Please.”

Her nails dance slowly up the muscle tone of his back, settling into the taut tendons of his shoulders. He groans again into the slope of her collarbone.

“I think I’ve forgotten your name.” She smiles against his cheek, and he chuckles into the comfortable darkness of his quarters.

“It’ll come to you, just when you least expect it.” He replies. He likes this—it’s this he missed. Making love in the warm sheets and cool air, nothing but the dark and the stars and them. He likes that there’s no burning need, no fiery passion—although that’s great too, sometimes—just them. Their quiet laughter, their smiles.

“I’m sure it will,” Aurora murmurs, shifting upwards into him, and kisses his ear before whispering: “Christopher.”

 


	27. Intergalactic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chris and aurora haven’t seen each other in longer than either can remember. fate brings them together, and the stars, for once, align in their favor.

Chris had barely been on the bridge five minutes when alarms started going off.

“Federation ship dropping out of warp, sir.” The lieutenant at comms was a Betazoid with raven hair who’d tried to sleep with him more than once. She shot him a cheeky smile that he promptly ignored.

“On screen,” Robert April had snapped awake at that. After a moment of nothing, he turned back to the Lieutenant.

“Well where are they?”

“Still in warp, sir…if they keep going at this rate, they’ll hit us head-on.”

Chris paled.

“And cleave us in half,” April groaned, “hail them, Lieutenant.”

The comms station chirped once, twice, and then a disastrous scene appeared on the view screen. A Bajoran with dirty blonde hair was the one hovering in their vision, half his face bloodied. In the background, red alert wailed as the computer preached half-power.

“Captain April, sir!” The feed was choppy and occasionally froze, audio cutting out even more frequently.

“Strengthen the connection, Lieutenant.” April ordered, standing from his chair. The Bajoran man kept rambling, but the only words they seemed to grab were “warp core” and “overheating”.

And then the feed blinked, the quality improving and giving them a clear look into the wrecked bridge.

“Well done, Lieutenant.”

“That wasn’t me, sir.” Chris looked between Robert and the lieutenant, just as puzzled as everyone else. He stood from his station, appearing at April’s side.

“Our warp core has been…I don’t know, infected.” There was a flash of white, and someone behind the Bajoran gestured wildly with their hands. “It’s overheating, and we’re stuck at warp.”

Chris felt his brow crease—he knew that voice.

“We were ambushed on a patrol by a band of particularly brave space smugglers.” The voice went on, still with no face to connect to it. “They paraded as a ship in distress.”

“The Commander advised we bring them aboard, and they stole all of our food, and sabotaged engineering.” The Bajoran snapped, looking behind him.

“It was your idea!” The voice shrieked, and then there was a surprised yell as something sparked.

Pike shifted forward.

“Whoever’s talking, come to the screen.” The view screen obviously wasn’t working because the Bajoran seemed to be standing at a science or comms station and gripping the display.

April eyed him.

“Pike?” With a look of mild dismay the Bajoran moved aside and motioned for the other person to come over.

The face that appeared was one he knew all too well. Pale olive skin, sea green eyes he recognized even with the grainy feed, and most shockingly, pure white hair that was held back in a half-coming-out braid.

“Rora?” The woman on the other end of the feed paused, met his eyes through the screen.

“Chris?”

His mouth was open to say a million things, but an abrupt electrical explosion rocked the approaching ship. Pike let himself gasp aloud as Aurora’s head slammed into the display, and she dropped away like a wet rag.

“You know her, Pike?” April demanded.

“Yes sir, she’s my best friend,” he replied mechanically, “Rora! We met at the Academy— _Aurora_! Amin!”

Lieutenant Amin was younger than him but smart, quiet, level-headed. “Lock onto the commanders and be prepared to transport.”

“Commander Pike, scans show that almost the entire ship’s compliment is on board.”

He froze.  _The entire ship._ He didn’t know what had made him think it was only Aurora and her Bajoran superior.

“Aurora, evacuate that ship.” Chris said, his tone shifting to command. Silently he prayed for her to hear him and get up, if only so he could be assured she was alive.

“At warp, Christopher? I doubt the pods were made for that.” She snapped back, her voice far away. April’s eyebrows went up.

“You need to drop out of warp.” April said finally as Enterprise drifted to the left.

“Our engineering corps is working on it, Captain April, sir.” Her voice was shaky now, but she clambered back up nonetheless. There was a gash at her hairline staining her hair crimson.

“You need to move the Enterprise, Chris. Now.”

“Helm,” April barked, descending from the chair to stand beside the helmsman and relay a bearing. Pike centered himself on the view screen, eyes quickly scanning her face.

“I’m fine,” she said, offering the littlest of smiles. “I missed you.”

He felt a smile crawl across his face, heart swelling in his chest. Even in such a disaster, he was beyond elated to see her again.

“I missed you, too.”

Their moment of tranquility was cut short by a temporary blackout. First the lights on the bridge went and Aurora starting speaking, but the audio cut, and soon after the feed went dead.

“ _Aurora_!”

“Amin, get them back.”

“All their power is down, sir, the ship’s floating dead.”

“They must’ve powered down the warp core,” Chris suggested, “or shut down the entire ship manually in the hopes that it  _would_  power down the warp core.”

“They’re dropping out of warp now, sir!”

Pike felt the tension continue to creep into his shoulders, his arms already tight. April returned to stand next to him, jaw taut.

The USS Spartacus appeared before them, crippled and dark. The saucer section dipped downwards, even as the ship continued to drift at an alarming speed towards Enterprise. Proximity alerts began screeching around the bridge.

“Shields up, red alert!” April roared, seating himself with conviction. “Keep us moving, helm!”

The Spartacus groaned loudly in protest as the two arms of its extending engines began to move upwards. Before long the ship was completely vertical in front of them.

“Christ Almighty,” Chris breathed, “they’re going over us.”

“Forward, helm, forward! Amin, get ready with a tractor beam!”

The bridge succumbed to silence, except for the screaming of alarms and the occasional chirp of comms. Silence begot a shroud of darkness, covering them all as the Spartacus moved in a slow, dreary somersault over the Enterprise. The bridge watched with mouths hanging open, eyes wide. A shiver attacked Pike’s spine. When the curtain of blackness was drawn back, Amin seemed to unfreeze and turned slowly to April.

“Tractor beam activated, sir. They’re being held in our wake.”

Robert April heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair which had just begun thinning.

“Beam the commander and her captain aboard,” he ordered, and then turned to his first officer: “Chris?” April made a vague gesture to the transporter room.

“With pleasure, sir.” He sighed.

The walk to the turbolift was silent, filled with calming breaths—in through the nose, out through the mouth. April clapped his shoulder passionately.

“Good job.” He murmured to his First Officer, feeling the younger man’s broad shoulders break like dams under his palm. Pike uttered a second sigh, and then smiled at Robert. “You look excited.” The captain observed.

“I haven’t seen her in so long,” he said, “she’s an excellent linguistics officer, sir. Incredibly smart.” And then, under his breath, he added: “She’d do amazing on Enterprise.”

“Best friend, huh?” He gave his First Officer a knowing look. He had heard the way she said his name, his full name. No one on the bridge could’ve missed it. The sly bastard only gave him that dimpled smile in return.

The transporter room was a drastic change from the commotion of the bridge, quiet and almost serene. He and April entered together, and the captain nodded to the man waiting to bring the two aboard. Slowly, after dense seconds of waiting, they materialized.

Aurora was just as short and slender as he remembered, feminine, soft. Sharp green eyes were clouded by what he guessed what a concussion. Her face was darkened by smoke and dirt and God knows what else, but warily her eyes traveled up to him.

There was no graceful way to describe their embrace; she more or less  _fell_  off the transporter pad and his arms just happened to be open. The amount of tension he felt flood from her muscles when she hit his arms was astonishing. He found a careful way to hold her tight, rubbing one hand up and down her back soothingly. The captain didn’t seem to be a captain at all—his dark uniform lacked the shoulder coloration, but he wore command gold. Briefly he looked Pike over and then the limp body in his arms, and then turned to April.

“Captain April,” he extended his hand, “Acting Captain Sydesu of the USS Spartacus.”

 _Sydesu_. Aurora had told him about this man before—staunch, traditional Bajoran from middle class means but a background of commendable leaders. From what he could recall in this moment, they didn’t get along.

“Acting?” April echoed. Suddenly Aurora pried herself from Chris’s chest, grabbing his arm for support.

“Our captain-“

“Was killed.” She cut in, eyeing Sydesu wickedly. “Because someone decided to be reckless.”

“I did what was necessary.”

“It was a hostage situation, Sydesu,” Aurora’s nails dug into Chris’s gold sleeve, “you were told to stay put and you should’ve. If you had, Captain Medath would still be alive.”

 _Captain Medath_. Chris remembered Aurora talking about her, a complete opposite to the intimidating name of the ship she commanded. She was patient and endlessly kind, but assertive in her decisions and incredibly loyal. A well-suited diplomat. A Vorta, if he remembered correctly. Aurora treasured Medath’s friendship to the end of the galaxy, held her in such high regard…

“Medath is dead?” He asked quietly. Suddenly all eyes in the room turned towards him, and April was questioning him with his eyebrows.

“Yes.” Aurora said coldly, shifting her weight from one leg to the over, wincing. Her hand latched around his bicep again to support herself. “But she shouldn’t be.”

The walk to med bay was slow and extruciatingly quiet. He was glad to see Aurora again, endlessly glad to have her in his arms. But she looked distant, sharp eyes glazed with defeat and sorrow. She didn’t speak, though he could feel she wanted to. When the doors to med bay closed behind them, her legs buckled and she slumped against his chest.

Sarah April looked up at the surprised sound he made, moving quick to pick the linguist up and direct himself to the nearest biobed.

“Who’s this?” Sarah asked, not failing to notice the way Pike cradled her head as he set her down, removing his arms as gently as possible.

“A good friend of mine,” he replied, reaching out to brush white hair matted with blood away from her face. “She came from the USS Spartacus.”

“I know you’re lying, Chris. Mommy instinct.” She patted her growing stomach and watched her husband’s First Officer pale against the sterile white light of med bay. “But I won’t push.”

As if Sarah had saved him from some imminent danger, Chris sighed and his broad shoulders drooped. Fingers threaded into fine white hair, tracing unconscious eyelids and smooth cheeks before dropping away at her jaw. More than anything, Sarah was surprised. Chris Pike had always been a gentle soul, but watching his movements–the way he chewed his lip, the way his brow creased or the way he flattened his palm across the woman’s forehead–this was a new sense of kindness. A new softness. One she hadn’t seen from him before, but was rapidly forming opinions on what it meant.

“What’s her name?” Sarah asked quietly. When he didn’t reply right away, she looked up and across the biobed to him.

“Aurora,” he whispered back, gentle and calm as a prayer.


	28. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contains discovery season finale spoilers!

The first thing he did when the battlefield was silent was migrate to the ready room and cry. He barely made it to a chair, and when he did he threw his arms down on the table and buried his head in them and cried. He wished someone would come comfort him but he also wanted to be alone. They were gone; all of them. His family. He loved them all, yet he had watched them disappear.

_Goodbye, Captain Pike._

_Goodbye, my friends._

That would be the last time he heard Saru. Or Tilly, the Ensign with an overactive mouth he’d taken so close to his heart. Or Michael, whose courage was endless and supported him where his failed.

He cried and sobbed and his sleeves were beginning to soak, his head beginning to pound. He’d almost lost Aurora, too, and he was surprised the tightness in his chest at the moment the Klingons pulled her away from the wormhole hadn’t launched him into an asthma attack right then and there.

_The commander is safe, Captain Pike._

And Kat. Kat, who had told him he could handle it. A roundabout way of saying she believed in him, a roundabout way of saying goodbye. And he knew it. He had watched her die, useless behind a blast door. She didn’t need to die. If he was locked into that fate then couldn’t he have done it? Shouldn’t he have done it? Perhaps he could’ve saved himself. Saved Aurora.

He cried even when Number One came in and set the door on a command-level override behind her. She sat in the chair beside him and listened to him weep, placing one hand on his back. He began to feel the same guilt and despair and doubt creep into his bones, the same feeling that Rigel VII had given him. Rigel VII, which he still bore the scars of. This battle, which he would forever bear the burden of. Number One did her best, trying to remain both professional in her comforting but friendly. Her nails dragged through his hair once, to smooth it back. He wanted Aurora. He wanted Discovery again.

Number One got up to get him some water, and when she sat down again he vowed to himself he would stop acting like a child. He wiped away tears from his bloodshot eyes and blew his nose and straightened his jacket. He sat in silence with Number One for a long time. She spoke occasionally, but he never replied. He couldn’t. His throat was raw, his voice gone.

And finally when she deemed him collected enough to handle himself, Number One stood. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Shall I set a course for home, Captain?” She asked softly. He smiled bitterly. Number One, always so calm and professional. Always good at what she did. Never faltering. Never failing. Like him.

Pike nodded slowly. Home. That sounded perfect.


	29. The First Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a request from a tumblr friend about pike and aurora's first kiss!!

“Hey, I’m so sorry I couldn’t make it to your performance.”

She stood from the fountain ledge, the warmest of smiles gracing her tired features.

“That’s alright. There’s one more left,” she smiled at him, extending her arms for a hug. He untangled his hands from his pockets and wrapped her in his arms, reminded of just how easily his limbs encased her slender frame.

“Tomorrow, right?” She nodded. “Oh God, I have to come to that one.”

A chilled breeze rolled through campus and she shivered against him, performance wear not providing much in the way of protection against an autumn night. He almost immediately grabbed the ends of his jacket and pulled her into his chest with them, relishing in the little giggle that graced his ears. Her arms slid around his torso and she nestled her head beneath his chin, grateful for the warmth. After a second he sighed, letting his cheek fall to her hair.

“Did you do amazing?” He murmured.

“Well-“

“You did amazing.” He cut her off, feeling her smile into his chest. “Leland sent me some video.”

“Of course he did. How was your final?”

“God, so terrible.” She shifted, placing her chin on his clavicle to look up at him. Sharp green eyes were inquisitive. “Ancient Civilizations, this time. Astrophysics earlier this morning.” He frowned. “Pretty sure I failed.”

“You did the best you could,” she reassured him, stroking his back soothingly. “At least you know you did well in Ancient Civilizations. You’ve always done well in that class.”

Pike gave a little shrug–he was too exhausted to care or worry. A dull headache that had been growing all day thudded against his skull. But everything was fine now, he had no more exams left. One more day and then they’d leave for Mojave, spend the summer at home. He couldn’t wait to show her the house he’d grown up in, the fifty miles of parkland surrounding the city, the little hills of the suburbs and the rolling fields of the rural countryside, where home was.

“Damn, I’m so tired,” he grumbled, feeling each part of his body slowly descend into that sweet medium between consciousness and sleep. “It’s past my bedtime.”

“I have to go change,” Aurora whispered back. He groaned to voice his disapproval—he wanted nothing more than to tear off his shoes and bring her under the covers with him, set to sleep until noon. “I know, I know.” Her hands patted his chest and pulled back from his embrace, fingers closing gently around his biceps. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s date night,” he whined.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t sit in bed and watch a movie.”

After a moment of consideration, he shrugged, rubbing his hands up and down her sides to try and preserve her warmth.

“Sounds good.” Palms cupping her cheeks, he kissed her forehead. “I’m proud of you. Tomorrow then?”

She smiled.

“Tomorrow.”

With minor reluctance he untangled himself from her, holding onto her fingers for as long as possible before he had to let go. Every inch of him wanted her to come. But she had exams tomorrow, and no doubt would be sore from the performance. He gave a little wave over his shoulder and then shoved his cold hand back into his pocket, breath steaming.

He was barely a meter away when she called his name, making him turn.

“Cinderella?”

Aurora hesitated for a moment before following his footsteps, coming to stand in front of him. Her palms were soft and cool against his cheeks, tracing over his cheekbones for a moment. Shamelessly he nuzzled into her touch.

“Chris,” she repeated, softer this time, and then shifted onto her toes—more accurately, the flats of her pointe shoes—and kissed him.

Her lips were an entirely new feeling. He was well aware of her reservations about kissing, ever since the first time he’d tried and she’d dodged it and his lips had planted on her cheek. But he had no quarrels, held no grudges about it. He didn’t know why she seemed scared of kissing him, but he didn’t press. If she wasn’t telling him, then it probably wasn’t his business.

But here she was, now, her lips against his, warm and soft like the rest of her. After a dumb moment he put his hands on her back, gently pressing her forward. There was a little gasp of surprise when  _he_  kissed  _her_ , a feeling he guessed was previously unknown. One palm danced up her spine and cradled the back of her head, and suddenly his heart was beating louder and faster than the stormy winds of a hurricane. She had created some kind of bubble, some glow of tangible affection in this one moment, enraptured him with it, and he never wanted to leave. Her lips were beautiful, inviting, exquisite all in one, exciting and calming. She set his blood on fire and made goose flesh of his skin all at once.

And when she pulled away, still close enough he could feel the rise of her chest against his, inhale her exhales and see the specks of dark in her green eyes, he felt like he could die happy.

“Aurora,” was all he could say, whispering her name to her, as if that alone let her know everything he was feeling. Cautiously he kissed her this time, slowly, gently, delicately. Her arms wound around his neck, fingers finding his dark hair. His head nearly exploded at her sliding touch, the feeling of her digits locking around whatever they could, not pulling or pushing but instead affirming. Keeping him there for eternity.

But he had to let go again, because his annoyingly human body demanded oxygen. The air he breathed in was laced with her perfume and he took the moment to press his forehead against hers, tritanium eyes still closed.

“Come back with me,” he urged softly, the hand in her hair massaging her scalp. “Come to bed, Cinderella.”

She sighed, exhale breaking against him like a raindrop shattering on impact.

“Okay,” Aurora murmured, watching his stormy eyes flutter open. A warm smile pulled at his lips; their promise of tomorrow had become a vow for tonight.


	30. Across the Ages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something i wrote for aurora's birthday (may 3 2220)

**4 - 2224**

_Joyeux anniversaire_

_Joyeux anniversaire_

_Joyeux anniversaire Aurora_

_Joyeux anniversaire!_

 

_It was her earliest memory, blowing out the candles on her fourth birthday. The proud face of her father and the content face of her mother hovered beside her, all smiles and sparkling eyes. Their little girl was so big now, her white hair growing past her chin, beautiful eyes gleaming against the sunset. They had taken her to the beach for this birthday, thinking correctly it would be the first one she remembered for years to come, if not her whole life. Jacques had brought with them three individual little cakes, each no bigger than his fist. Cora had stuck a candle in one and lit it, though the ocean breeze threatened to blow it out before her daughter could._

_“We love you, darling,” Cora kissed her head._

_“Happy birthday, ma princesse.”_

 

 

**16 - 2236**

_“When is your birthday, exactly, Aurora dear?”_

_The question came from Eve, aimed from the head of the table down to the foot. Aurora had zoned out, ignoring most of the conversation. It didn’t concern her, it never did. But now each pair of eyes were on her, Dejos, Soya, Aiyet, her step-parents. She set her fork down after a dense moment._

_“Actually, it was today.”_

_Not one of them made a noise, moved a muscle. Twelve years, and they hadn’t bothered to ask until now. Some part of her was indescribably hurt, but another was hardly surprised. The past twelve years had been close to dreadful. Not one of her classmates at school spoke to her, not even Soya, who was supposed to be her sister. Dejos did nothing to protect her from the kids who picked on her, nothing to protect her when they pulled at her white hair, nothing to protect her when they shunned her for the evident lack of ridges in her nose. She was not Bajoran, not one of them. She would never be._

 

_“Why didn’t you say something, dear?” Eve asked. Her voice was halfway between sincere and mechanical–she knew any child would expect to be asked that question. Aurora could never place where her step-mother stood, whether Eve hated her or not. She was truly a mother, and loved her biological children. Sometimes she fooled herself into thinking Eve loved her too, and maybe she did. But not as much as Dejos. Not as much as Soya or Aiyet. Never as much._

 

_Aurora merely shrugged in reply, picking up her fork again. She stared at her plate for a moment before looking back up to her adopted family, all awaiting an answer._

_“No one asked.”_

 

 

**20 - 2240**

_“I’m not surprised you’re a spring baby.”_

 

_It was the first time she’d shared her birthday with someone in years. Christopher Pike had entered her life a beaming, smiling, blinding star of tritanium eyes and dimpled smiles and warm hugs. As far as she could tell, he had no intention of leaving either. His affection never seemed to burn out or even dim, and more than once she wondered how, of all the spaces in the universe, this star had fallen to her._

 

_“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked. He reached for her hand, encasing it in his own and placing it on his stomach. With his foot, he gestured vaguely upwards to the stars, blinking down at the two of them laying in the grass together._

_“Spring is…new. Beautiful. And calm.” He said finally, warm fingers gently rubbing her wrist. “Like you. So I’m not surprised you’re a spring baby.”_

 

_After a moment she rolled onto her side, scooting closer to him to put her cheek on his chest._

_“And you’re just a baby.”_

_His laugh shook his whole torso, but it was a wonderfully warm sound. He tucked an arm around her, lacing their fingers together on his stomach._

_“Ooh, ouch, Cinderella. That was harsh.”_

_“You can handle it.”_

_“No, I mean that was cold. My fragile masculine pride is shattered.” She smiled into his shirt, examining the size difference between their palms, their fingers. Pike drew a long sigh, moving so his body was pressed to hers, placing a light kiss against her hair._

_“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” He murmured, cheek to her scalp, eyes still trained on the stars._

 

_And even as a chilled breeze rolled over them, it was unable to steal the warmth from her chest. This, she thought to herself, this is how a birthday should go._

 

 

 

**32 - 2252**

_Vina turned to look at him as she held his double’s hand, moving towards the partially exposed turbo lift sticking from the rock. He broke his gaze away just as she did—he couldn’t look at her. Instead his eyes turned on the Talosians, all three of them staring back at him, Number One, Colt, and Aurora. At the man they had brought so low, the man who’s fragile mind they had played with, the man ridden with guilt and despair and now, infused with anger._

_And then they, too, filed back towards the broken heap of rock, moving for the turbo lift. Pike watched each and every one of them go, his knuckles white around his phaser, and when the doors shut he almost burst out crying._

 

_He found himself instead wrapping his arms around Aurora, back still to Una and Colt. She was limp against his chest, just as mentally exhausted as he was, just as dazed. Gently he placed a hand against the commander’s stomach. There was no signs, not yet, no roundness to it. But the child the Talosians had wanted so badly, now free of its potential fate, now their own—it was there._

 

_Part of him wished it wasn’t._

 

_“Happy birthday, Cinderella,” he whispered into her hair, as the light carried them away and back up to Enterprise._

 

 

**37 - 2257**

The bridge was dark, quiet, desolate. Pike had gone into the ready room nearly half an hour ago and hadn’t come out since–she couldn’t blame him. He’d gotten no sleep lately. Discovery was on his mind, she knew, as it was on hers. The process of limping back to Earth was weighing on him. The ship was fragile, moving at a slow pace, and she could see in his eyes that he was torn. He wanted to stay here, in deep space, with no one around, where he could speak of Discovery freely, reflect, maybe even try to get a message through time and space. But he wanted to return home too, to Mojave, even if he knew that meant informing Starfleet. If he was passed out at his desk, perhaps that was the best thing for him right now.

Another hour and the Alpha shift would begin, she and Pike would be relieved. They could sleep, although she doubted either of them would, but they could. And then they’d return for Beta shift, and she would sleep soundly through Gamma shift.

 

 _Lousy way to spend a birthday_ , she thought to herself, but quickly pushed that thought away. Pike was stressed, he was busy, trying to get Enterprise back to Earth in one piece and the crew with it. She couldn’t blame him for forgetting. And it wasn’t like anyone else knew her birthday, so that was on her, at least…

 

The ready room doors hissed open and she glanced away from her display at comms, eyes widening. Chris stood there, his golden uniform pristine as ever. He was cradling a singular cupcake in his palms, wrapped in pale blue paper and topped with vibrant yellow frosting in the shape of a daffodil. That lovable country smile spread his features when he looked at her, saw the mild shock on her face. He took a few lumbering, careful steps forward before he began to sing, quietly, as if the bridge itself was asleep:

 

_Bonne anniversaire à toi_

_Bonne anniversaire à toi_

_Bonne anniversaire Cendrillon_

_Bonne anniversaire à toi_

 

He placed himself in the chair across from her, extending the cupcake.

“Was that good? I looked it up on the translator, so I have no idea.” He admitted.

“I’m surprised you figured out how to pronounce Cendrillon.” She giggled lightly, hands moving to lie carefully on top of his. “It was perfect, Chris.” Aurora smiled at him and he grinned back.

“Go ‘head, make your wish before the wax melts everywhere.” He urged. After a moment of contemplation, and with one perfectly aimed breath, the candle flickered out.

 

Pike leaned across the thin column of smoke to kiss her, and when his eyes flickered open to stare back into the twin oceans of sea green, he murmured against her lips:

“Happy birthday, Aurora.”


	31. A Moonlight Serenade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 - "let me take care of you tonight"

What had started out as kneeling to pry off her shoes had turned into a much-needed foot rub, and became an excuse to kiss his way up her body, ignoring where the satin dress met his lips. Neither of them had thought to turn the lights on, nor the heat. She shivered when he ghosted up her belly. His hands found hers, each lying limply on the comforter beside her head, and slid into her grip.

Her lipstick was sweet, smooth, and apparently stubborn because no matter how much he kissed her, it didn’t come off. The first time she moaned was small, muffled because it was into his hair, where her fingers roamed freely. Small, but the kind of moan that drew her thighs up to encase his hips, the kind of moan that set his exhausted and slightly buzzed brain purring. So he continued making love to her neck, slow and passionate, rubbing her thighs, keeping her close.

She undid his tie, thank Christ, and not long after his fingers were finding their way beneath the satin hem of her dress. His body had begun a pleasant rocking rhythm of its own accord, something he hadn’t noticed until he’d drawn away from her and her fully encompassing presence.

“Let me take care of you tonight, baby girl.” He insisted softly, rubbing gentle circles into her legs in the dark. With her arms draped around his shoulders, her body pressed flush to his chest, she touched her nose to his.

Wordlessly, she nodded.


	32. When the Nighttime Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by "closing time" by @allthetrek on tumblr!!

“Miss,” he places his coat around her exposed shoulders, and then his arm around her waist, “if you’d join me for the night?”

She recognizes that tone of voice. They’ve been sitting on opposite ends of the bar for hours now, surveying the establishment around them. He watched multiple males—and some women—of various races try to pry her away but she’d never left her stool.  _Accidental_ brushes of reptilian hands against her ass, drunken grabs for her chest, and outright hands sliding against her thighs. Every time he wants nothing more than to crash a barstool over the unlucky alien’s head; every time he wills himself to stay put.

Lately, though, it’s invited a more lustful-induced rage, watching her get fondled left and right. Those thighs are  _his_ , those breasts belong to  _his_  lips, that ass belongs to  _his_  hands. He has claimed her, and, likewise, she has claimed him, but slowly he is watching his claim be buried.

When he finally sees the defeated look on her face after another unruly patron tries and fails to urge her to their quarters, something now encouraged by lust, anger, and protectiveness in him breaks. He stalks around the bar, fighting his hardest to retain his composure like he always has. He drapes his smooth leather jacket around her and lets her sink into his warmth, his scent, his presence. She slides off the barstool for him, slotted close against his side, disregarding his steel hand on her hip.

The moment they reach the dinky little room they’ve bought for the night his dams break. He flips her around and her hot hands find the cool door. He pushes her hips back into him and actually  _moans_ when he grinds forward against her. Holy Christ, he’s about to burst. He’s not entirely without the soft touches he knows she loves, though, never too far gone to treat her well. His thumbs move upwards and meet at the center of the curve of her back and rub pressured little circles into the scandalously tight dress.

“Oh, baby girl,” he breaks his words to bite into her earlobe, hips still rocking against her, “I need to take you  _right now._ ”

It’s at this she forces herself around in his grip, now facing him. He shudders as her cold fingers slide beneath his shirt.

“Christopher,” she chides, and kisses him sweetly. It makes his veins light on fire. Slender fingers make quick work of his belt and it hits the rug. His tongue finds its way into her mouth and he pulls her backward with him towards where he thinks the bed is, hands grabbing and squeezing at her rear through the fabric.

The backs of his legs connect with a metal frame and he goes down, but she doesn’t follow. When he props himself on his elbows to look at her, she’s nothing more than a dark silhouette standing between his knees. He sits up, shirt still pushed halfway up his stomach, and reaches for her, but she gently pushes his hands down.

“Cinderella,” he groans, frustrated his desire is being denied.

With a light shrug and dainty motions she lets his jacket slide off her shoulders. It whispers into a pile on the floor. Painstakingly slow her hands undo the zipper tucked beneath her arm on the side of her dress. He watches every movement with intense hunger. Next her hair comes tumbling down, and without bending her legs she pushes the dress down, steps out of it. Places one foot between his legs and, white hair covering her breasts, leans to take the shoe off.

“No,” he says, guttural and husky and commanding. He knows they’ll leave ridiculous marks on his back and he knows they’ll probably shred the already worn bedsheets, but his eyes graze down her slender form, thinking of every inch of that body he knows beneath, every centimeter of warm skin waiting for his mouth. His eyes slide down her legs seductively, landing on the strappy black heels before looking up to her in the darkness.

“Leave those on.”


	33. Gamma Shifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chris comes home after a tiring gamma shift :) thanks to my friend @myserie on tumblr for the idea!

His quarters were pitch black this early in the morning except for the pale blue safety lights at his feet. The sound of the door snapping closed behind him almost sounded like a mountain breaking in the silence of a funeral. The captain moved slowly and phantasmagorically, ghosting around furniture and crossing the ever-open threshold into his bedroom. He didn’t bother asking the computer to turn on the lights–the nebula they were parked near left streams of dancing oranges and gold on the floor. **  
**

A figure already huddled into bed caught his eye as strips of vibrant yellow passed over it. He drew closer, slowly circling the bed. Aurora had done as he asked, then, and hadn’t waited up for him. They rarely took gamma shifts without one another but she needed her sleep after that last mission. He wasn’t surprised to find she was the reason his blue baseball shirt from the Academy was missing, the front tucked into Starfleet issue white underwear. This woman rarely wore anything Starfleet issue outside of her uniform; he could hear her many excuses for taking his shirt playing like a song on repeat in his head.

With a soft groan Pike seated himself beside her legs and toed his boots off, pushing them aside into the darkness. Next came the collar on his uniform, which always grew uncomfortably restrictive after a draining gamma shift, and he shrugged off his command gold for the day. He left the undershirt on and lazily kicked off his pants. Aurora shifted and for a moment he thought he’d waken her up, placing a warm hand on her thigh and squeezing.  
“Hey,” he murmured, but she didn’t reply. She was tucked around  _his_ pillow, holding it tightly in her arms, asleep on  _his_  side of the bed. Maybe he should’ve stayed in tonight. In a series of careful, slow movements Pike moved over her and laid down with her back to his chest. With the briefest moment of lucidity Aurora closed her legs around his thigh and let him push his bicep beneath her head.  
  
“Chris?” She murmured, sounding beyond exhausted and still mostly asleep.  
“Yeah,” he whispered into her hair, pushing his palm beneath her shirt to spread warmly against her stomach. After a minute or two of subtle readjustments he stilled. Slender fingers drew small circles in his open palm. “Go back to sleep, baby girl.” She pressed her hand into his and he grabbed it, free palm rubbing thoughtful circles against her belly. The archivist mumbled something incoherent to him.

Within minutes, they had both drifted away.


	34. Talos IV

She recognized it immediately, the little twitch in his jaw, the forlorn look in his beautiful grey eyes, the light crease in his brow. He didn’t  _ want _ to go to Talos IV, neither of them  _ wanted _ to go to Talos IV. He’d promised her millions of times in the dark nights following their capture, while they held each other and tried not to cry, that they’d never return. Not after what had been done to them. Never again would their boots touch the surface. 

 

“Christopher,” she said gently from her station at comms, watching his dazed look snap away, “if I may?” He gave her an absent smile. 

“Your input is always welcome, Cinderella.” 

“Are you sure about this?” She circled Bryce and moved towards the chair. “About Talos IV?” 

 

Pike’s eyes glanced between hers. He was concerned, uncertain, and...scared. Frightened of what might happen if the Talosians knew they’d come back. Hell, she was too. 

“Yes,” he said finally. His facial expression was laced with a broken look of sorrow but his voice held authority. Pike reached for her hand and she sandwiched it between her own, squeezing. “I’m sure.” 

 

“And us?” She asked quietly, wanting nothing more than to hold him and quell the slight tremble in his lower lip. “Will we be okay?” 

Acutely aware that everyone on the bridge was watching them, Pike’s lips fell open, but he didn’t make a sound. After clearing his throat, his eyes flicked to the view screen and then back to her. 

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted in a whisper, the fearful look returning, “I don’t know.”


	35. Be Gentle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 - "be gentle with me" for @myserie on tumblr!

“He’s not doing…he’s not as bad as he was when we found him,” Boyce told Aurora as she entered medbay. She had come to see Chris, no doubt, after the fight on Rigel VII had left him closer to death than either of them cared to admit. It had only been two years with them on Enterprise but Boyce felt that he’d known them—at least her—his whole life. He felt as if he knew the innermost workings of their relationship while most others still had no clue they were together.

“His body’s in an incredibly frail state.” Aurora felt her bottom lip disappear under her front teeth for a second, before she surveyed the doctor’s features. He was tired, too, but he wasn’t hurt. He looked…confident in something. Assured.

“Boyce,” she reached for his arm, “what else?”

His eyes glanced quickly across medbay to the only occupied biobed. The slow beeping of the captain’s vitals filled the silence—slower than usual.

“He’s going to be just fine,” the doctor told her, and from the look on his face he truly meant it. “Recovery is going to take a little longer than usual but he’ll be just fine.”

“Can I talk to him?” It was a simple question and he knew she would want a truthful answer; if he was still lingering on the high wire between life and death, Boyce had no business giving her hope. He was the doctor after all.

 

“I’d be surprised if he’s awake, he’s on so many painkillers,” Phil snorted, but turned again to fix his gaze on the biobed. “But you can try.” She gave him a thankful smile before making her way across the dim sickbay towards the captain.

 

Perching carefully beside his arm, she touched his forehead—warm but not feverish—before starting to trace her fingertips over the planes of his face. His breath was shallow but steady, and every inhale seemed to be more pained than every exhale.

 

She eyed the long cut down his chest. It started below left collarbone and sliced through his pectoral, his stomach, and ended just before the prominent bone of his opposite hip. Boyce had set the regenerators on it for a while but had decided it best to clean and dress it first. Let it breathe, do some of its own healing.

 

“It’s just as bad as it looks,” Chris murmured, following her gaze to his split torso, “but the Rigellians will have to try harder next time.”

She looked back at his now-open grey eyes, and gave the captain a little smile.

“Everyone’s worried about you,” Aurora said, stroking his hair, “it wasn’t exactly the end to the second year they were looking for.” Pike examined her for a moment, trying to find her own feelings amidst the collective feelings of the crew she put forward. But she was good at not letting him catch on to her fear.

“Nothing’s changed, Cinderella,” he whispered, his fingers closing weakly on her thigh. “I just need you to be gentle with me, for a while.” He gave her a half-hearted smile that was dimmed by exhaustion and painkillers.

“You know how incapable of doing that I am,” she teased, watching him smile before his face contorted.

“Ugh, don’t make me laugh,” he groaned, “every time I do I feel like I’m going to split open.”

Silence settled between them for a second before he feebly rubbed his fingers into her knee, eyes fluttering closed again.

“Tell Una to set a course for the Vega colonies,” he muttered, “it’s not far. With luck we won’t get into any more trouble along the way.”

“Go to sleep,” Aurora shook her head. Even now, incapacitated and hurting, hardly awake, he was thinking about Enterprise. The ship, the crew. What he could do from the confines of his biobed to ensure their safety.

“Only if you stay,” he bargained, cracking one eye open. She dragged her fingertips over his eyelids, down the ridge of his nose, across his lips, before tracing his cheek back up to his hairline.

 

“Of course,” she replied, “I will.”


End file.
